The Void in All Things
by Jord
Summary: Some backstory to lend credence to decisions made and events that came about in DA:Inquisition. Am trying to play around with the possibility that Trevelyan knew Cullen long before the events in Inquisition. This is my first romance-heavy fic, so go easy on me.
1. Beresaad

I rarely ever write romances but I enjoy backstories, so decided to combine the two. I'm not entirely sure where this will go, but I want to explore my Inquisitor's past a little bit in order to provide credibility to some of the actions and decisions she takes and makes during the events of DA: Inquisition. The story begins several years before the Inquisition, and will eventually catch up to the familiar. And yes, as a newly-converted Cullennite, Cullen will be paired with my Inquisitor. (I find this to be very amusing, as Cullen used to be one of my least favourite characters. Halfway through DA2, however, I started to see things from his angle, and…well…yeah. I fell in love.) I want to cover how he deals with his ordeal at the Circle and Lyrium addiction too.

**SPOILERS FOR INQUISITION FOLLOW:**

I want to take the time to explore some minor characters as well – Stroud in particular intrigues me, and I wanted to write the story such that he and the Inquisitor have a past. I realize that Stroud is significantly older than the Inquisitor, so there will be some canon-bending involved. In my game, I selfishly sacrificed him so that Hawke could live, and came away feeling very guilty about it all. So I suppose this is my way to appeasing my conscience (that is slightly disturbingly more alarmed about in-game consequences than real life) by giving Stroud a chance to shine.

I also find myself thinking about the Chantry, the Qun and how the two mirror each other despite trying to distance themselves from one another. I try to play the non-believer as much as possible, and the reactions I get from the characters in-game are thought-provoking and occasionally disturbing.

Anywho...on with it. Reviews are, as always, ever-welcome. Also, if you'd like me to review a story you've written, go ahead and PM me. I will try to respond as soon as I can.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

The man remained eerily quiet as he trudged behind the powerful being before him. Occasionally he would glance up at his companion, study the deep scars, taut shoulder muscles and menacing battle axe slung over his back. But then his eyes lost their focus and meaning for looking, which caused him to lower his gaze. It was easier to fixate on the immediate; finding surer footing through the rocky paths they trod upon. It was easier to do anything but think.

The Qunari did not care to turn around and observe his comrade. But he was well aware of what the man had lost and of the aftermath of emotions. Such skills of emotional perception were common amongst his people, especially within the _Ben-Hassrath_ – subtle facial expressions, changes in demeanor, deviations from the norm, these were all valuable tools with which to extract information. However, most skilled in the art were able to detach themselves from the ripple-effect of such fallibilities.

He was not.

While the mind and body were one, fighting in mental and physical synchrony against enemies of the Qun, everything reduced itself to its elemental fragments. Love, anxiety, doubt, fear – each powerful emotions in their own right – yielded to the simplicity that was survival. It brought him a brief but much-needed peace. There were quieter moments too, while he was sharpening his weapons, preparing reports for his commanders, when he would direct his mind to shine on the duty before him. But these were harder to control as there was no immediate danger to serve as a distraction. Sometimes duty would bring him his peace, and other times it wouldn't.

Today, he wasn't going to be so lucky.

"There is nothing you can do for them." he said, not turning around.

The man remained silent.

"When you become Viddathari, you will see the truth in this. Lay the past to rest. Take from it what you can learn, and use it to serve the Qun."

The man let out a barely audible sigh.

The subtle despondency did not escape his notice. He grudgingly turned around. The Qunari faced his companion but failed to meet his eyes. He stared instead at the sinking sun behind the mountains. The pain of such brightness was preferable to what he would endure should he acknowledge what gazed back at him.

"I...am grateful. But you should have let me die." said the man.

"Were you useless to the Qun, I would have. But you fight like an Atashi."

"What would that be?"

"The Dragons of old. You fought harder than a man who simply wants to survive."

"I was fighting for my family. I failed."

The Qunari's gaze finally settled on the grieving man. He studied the pitiable being before him with piercing violet eyes, at a loss for words. Another of his race would have acknowledged the futility of the situation and proceeded with duty, but a stirring within his heart held him in place. His mind searched for words from the Qun. Words to meant to instill strength and purpose. But such phrases felt hollow, and it was this dearth that kept him frozen in place. He was wise enough to recognize that the man needed kindness and comfort, but the Qun offered little in that regard.

"We should keep going. We need to place a league or two more between our pursuers." And that was all he could manage.

* * *

><p>The clifftop overlooked the docks, and lantern lights from seaside homes, taverns, and boats illuminated the water with ever-changing reflections. Waves of melancholy music carried on the wind made its way in their direction. The man studied the procession of people and watched as they carefully laid what was obviously a corpse in a slender boat. A few men held lit torches and remained still as a lament for the dead issued forth from one of their own.<p>

"I thought Free-Marchers don't burn their dead," remarked the Qunari as he watched the unfolding event alongside his companion.

A soft breeze stirred through the conifers and caressed their faces.

"They don't." replied the man. "This is unusual."

"Unusual – how?"

"The colour of the banner on the boat – it symbolizes nobility. Nobles can afford to bury their dead. They don't have to endure the guilt of burying their loved ones in unmarked graves. Or leaving them to be burned by those who murdered them."

The Qunari swallowed. "I am sorry that you were robbed of giving them peace."

The procession by the docks below began to move. Wielded torches were lowered to the oil-soaked hay that lay beneath the body. Someone untied the boats moorings, and three people pushed the small boat into deeper waters. Within a matter of a few minutes the flames had formed a wall of fire that obscured that which it contained within.

"What good is believing in the Maker when He refuses to listen or help?"

"The Qun can offer – "

The man shook his head in annoyance. "_No_. Not now. I acknowledge the Qun. But no religion, no being or deity, could comfort me now. The Tevinters took away the little happiness I have." He turned to face his comrade; eyes watering with misery and fury. "But I will take this for myself. My grief and my vengeance are my due. I will have it, and no one, not the Qun or the bastard Tevinters can rob that of me."

The Qunari paused, wanting desperately to walk away, but a compelling guilt prodded him knowingly. "I know that the Qun can't –"

"_Please_, Asogen. Let me mourn."

"Let me finish." he insisted. "The Qun seldom provides kindness. We have to take that from wisdom that we procure from events such as these. I...do not know any of my people who have not lost their comrades to death. We do not struggle to understand it. We accept it. Life is not about getting what you deserve. Death is an inevitability, just as a storm comes to be, or the sun rises to shine."

"That must be easy for you." said the man, who made no effort to conceal his bitterness.

"It…isn't. The words of the Qun have been etched into my memory, but they often fail to reach my..." Asogen's voice haltered.

His companions eyes looked up at him. "Your soul?" he finished for him.

"My Asala. Yes."

"Doesn't this set you apart from the rest of your kith and kin? Wouldn't they burn you alive for these ideals?"

"My thoughts have not yet evolved into ideals. And no, I would not be burned alive for them. A senseless death is for you humans to accomplish."

For the first time in a long time, the man smiled. It was a grim imitation of one, but it counted nonetheless. "I disagree. You may understand more than most. Maybe even more than you realize."

The crowd below began to scatter, slowly but surely. The man crossed his arms and nodded in the direction of the funereal gathering. "My wife once worked for them, you know. The man they mourn is a Bann. Bann Trevelyan. He was a good man."

"All men are remembered kindly after death," reflected Asogen.

"He might be one of the few exceptions. He was loyal to the people. He never extended his reach yet managed to aid those who others of his rank would be content to ignore. He was good to my wife and my children."

"How did he die?"

"I believe he was ill for a while, actually. Despite his sickness, however, he led a small company of men to secure land that was stolen by the Tevinter. I'm not sure how truthful this account is, but it doesn't seem out-of-character for him. He was struck in battle and although he made it home, he wasn't able to pull though."

"The Tevinter have much to answer for." remarked Asogen. "But...then again, so do my people."

"But aren't your actions justified by the Qun?"

Asogen let out a deep laugh. He seemed surprised by his own reaction as he shook his head. "If you train your mind to adhere to such contrived ideals, _anything_ is justifiable. Look at your Chantry. See how they ensnare and confine with offers of aid and guilt. See how they teach you never to question. They replace free thought with a sense of familial belonging. And it is this _belonging_ that keeps you mired in their ways. Not to mention that this is not the least of the freedoms they ask of you."

"But doesn't the Qun teach the same?"

"Oh, the Qun is no exception. What it comes down to, my friend, is which one allows you to sleep better at night. Which is the lesser of the two evils. Having that choice is a luxury, and that is why I offer it to you. There are many among my brothers and sisters who would have slain you had you refused to become Viddathari."

The man sighed and rubbed his brow wearily. "I...I see."

Asogen studied his companion for a few moments. "No you don't. You are too overwhelmed with grief to give much thought to philosophical musings. In time, the grief will lessen and you will consider well what I have said. Do not commit to the Qun unless you are absolutely sure. But let's take one step at a time. We need to rest. Your pursuers may have given up the chase, but that is not a chance I'm willing to take. We should leave for Kirkwall as soon as the sun rises."

They turned towards their Spartan campsite, made various preparations for sleep and lay down.

The world began to sleep with them. The water from the sea below crashed rhythmically against the steep cliffs. The sound was welcome and soothing. The moon shone in its full glory as bats tittered alongside crickets in the vegetation above.

A few moments later, a twig snapped in the distance, the noise reverberating against the nighttime quiet. A minute later, softer sounds issued from beyond them.

Asogen sat up quickly. He reached for his axe and brought it to his side. With his other hand he began to open up a small poultice. He dabbed its contents on a rag and rubbed the piece of cloth along the sharp contours of his weapon.

"What is it?" asked his companion.

"It could be the wildlife," he replied, attempting to sound confident.

"But it's not, is it..."

"Your wildlife is too silent."

The man pricked up his ears. The Qunari was right. The crickets chirped no more and the noisome bats seem to have ceased all activity.

Asogen spoke in a low, clear voice. "There is a large rock by the cliff's edge. Get behind it and stay hidden. Once they're distracted, head north. Should I get killed, make for Kirkwall. If you still wish to give yourself to the Qun, speak with the Arishok there."

"I won't leave you to die."

"Us both being dead gains us nothing. And where will your vengeance lie then?"

"You think these are Tevinter?" he asked as he crouched towards Asogen's position.

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean?"

"Tevinter do not move so silently. I would have sensed them sooner. Perhaps these are sellswords – warriors and rogues who've been retained by the highest bidder. Either way, they're well trained to move this quietly. And if they can do so, chances are that they are flanking us right at this very moment."

The man hesitated.

Asogen gave up all efforts at concealment as a figure broke through the foliage before them. "NOW!" he cried to his companion. He raised his axe and tensed his muscles, coiled and ready to strike.

"Ataash varin kata, Basalit-An!" he bellowed into the night, "Come meet my steel!"

At once, several fighters fell upon him. Metal met metal and cries of bravery and pain pierced the night. Asogen's companion peered around the rock. The moon snuck behind a cloud and all he could see was a great silhouette of moving forms; a dark, contorting beast of fury. His friend's imposing and recognizable form was nowhere to be seen.

Then, suddenly, as a drowning man who struggles for air breaks through the water's surface, Asogen broke free of his swarming enemies. He swung his battle axe in whirling arcs, scattering to the ground those who were unprepared for its blade.

His friend gazed, stupefied and transfixed by this display of strength. A small part of him felt compelled to help, and he even made one step in that direction, when he saw the Qunari stumble forward. One of his attackers seized the moment and brought his sword to the Qunari's helm. Asogen staggered but kept himself from falling down with his hand. But then another flung something towards the Qunari, and as the clouds parted, he could see that they were attempting to tie a rope around Asogen's neck. One the noose was in place, two people tugged hard. But he still did not fall. He jerked his head back, causing one of his attackers holding the rope to let go of their grip. The remaining group then took to assaulting his newly exposed flank with blades.

There were too many of them. Asogen would not last much longer. He should flee. But the Qunari had saved his life. His heart pounded heavily in his chest.

In the midst of his indecision, something flew through the air, missing his ear by a few inches. With a resounding thwack, one of the attackers went motionless. Another thwack and a second one fell. The man looked around in bewilderment. Where once he was panicked, he now grew confused. Was someone helping them?

"Get them, Bunty!" came a voice from a copse of trees by the cliff's edge.

A stocky, four-legged animal snarled as it roared past him, and was soon followed by a diminutive figure who cried out with almost as much furor as Asogen had minutes before. He saw now that it was a child and a young Mabari hound. A hound named Bunty. It seemed utterly ridiculous. So thoroughly unexpected that, given more time, he would have had to laugh in spite of it all.

The child was nimble and launched himself on top of one of Asogen's attackers. He took out a small blade that glinted in the moonlight before plunging it deep into the assailant's shoulder. The dog growled menacingly as it held on with a vice-like grip onto their enemy's trousered leg.

In the time that the child and his dog brought Asogen, the Qunari quickly removed the rope around his neck. He fought with renewed fervor; thrusting, hacking and parrying the assaults of the recently-demoralized group. His movements were frighteningly elegant for so large a being. He was quick too, and seemed attuned to all the swift activity around him. He even caught the boy as he fell off the back of an attacker, and propped him back up to return to the fight.

Together, the three made short work of their enemies. Asogen moved around slowly but purposefully, as he surveyed the area for any remaining danger.

"That was...unexpected." he said finally, as he walked towards the child.

The child gazed back up at him, and the man saw the Qunari abruptly come to a stop. But the gesture was so perfunctory that he couldn't be sure that it had happened at all.

"You fight well." said Asogen to the boy. "How old are you?"

"You are in my book." began the boy. "Do you use poison on your blade?"

"Your book?" asked Asogen, perplexed.

"_A Compiled History of the Occupied North_, if you're asking. But I suppose that's more acceptable reading and we all know how approved text suffers from a tremendous lack of detail, not to mention truth. They don't paint a pretty picture of the Qunari, I'll tell you that much. Especially with the recently-arrived Arishok in Kirkwall. Scholars are clamoring – literally falling over themselves – to write addendums to newer versions of text, and well...your image just goes downhill from there."

"Parshaara!" exclaimed Asogen. "What on earth are you on about?"

The boy bent down to scratch his panting Mabari behind the ears. "It doesn't really matter. But seeing as how I saved your life, perhaps you'd grant me some of your time? I...well, I want to know more about you. History has not allowed the Qunari to speak for themselves, and all they have extracted from your people is that you have a predisposition towards violence. It could have something to do with your religion, but that would be a very simple-minded viewpoint."

"Evangeline?" the man finally emerged from behind cover and walked slowly towards the child.

"You know this..._creature_?" questioned Asogen, as he gestured towards their new companion.

"I...yes. She was seven when my wife worked for the Trevelyans." And then, to Evangeline, "I thought you were Chasind! Some runaway boy who lives in the wild! But what are you doing here? Your father's dead. Were you not at his funeral?"

The girl remained silent.

"Your mother must be worried sick."

"No. They have been giving her sleeping draughts. She sleeps the pain away." she said, more quietly this time.

"What about your sisters? Surely they must be missing you by now?"

Silence.

"Fine. Whatever the reason, you have to go home now. You can't remain here. It's not safe." He tried to sound forceful, but the events of the past few days were taking its toll on him. "I'll take you back home."

"No, you won't." said Asogen. "The Tevinter were willing to pay good coin for those mercenaries. They will not give up their hunt for you now. You should leave Ostwick immediately, and don't wait for the dawn. I'll take the child home."

"They're just as likely to come after you after all the aid you've given me." he argued. "Especially this manner of aid," he remarked, waving his hand loosely at the many unconscious and dead that lay on the ground.

"That is a risk I'm willing to take."

"So we're to part ways, then? Just like that?"

Asogen looked from his companion to the girl, studying her. The child gazed with quiet but keen interest in the ongoing conversation. "Perhaps I will make my way to Kirkwall in a few months. Perhaps we will meet again there."

"I...Asogen. Thank you. For everything. I'm not one for goodbyes."

The Qunari nodded. "Nor should you be. Given the circumstances."

The pair shook hands, and parted.


	2. Imekari

The path to her home was shorter than she had remembered.

"You should come in and meet my sisters," she suggested.

Asogen looked at her quizzically. He held a rag that had now been properly soaked in his own blood against his temple. "I don't make the prettiest of pictures, girl."

Her mouth broke into a wide, yet quite captivating, grin. "I think you're wonderful."

His eyes twinkled in amusement. "I considerably doubt that your sisters will share your appreciation." He tried to appear stern but failed miserably. What was it about this child that molded stoic resolve into gentle acquiescence? "But...I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless."

"You're so different." she remarked suddenly.

"Different? From what? One of your historical texts?"

"I suppose."

"What do your texts say about me?"

"They simultaneously praise your resolve and fear your determination. But that description applies solely to the Qunari race. You? You're not like them at all. You're – "

Asogen looked at her sternly. For whatever reason, it seemed to have silenced the girl. "I am...who I am." he said purposefully. "We do not seek to be idolized. Nor replaced."

"Replaced?" she mouthed, no sound escaping her lips.

"You lost a father. This loss is new. Recent. I cannot fill that void."

The girl stepped back as if dealt a blow. An eternity of moments ensued. "I don't seek to replace him. No one can."

"But you are clearly searching for something."

"You're Ben-Hassrath. You've studied a myriad of facial expressions so as to glean information from –"

"And you, child, are nothing but a walking book. You recite observation followed by diatribe. The world does not lie in a book. And closure does not sit within someone you've just met. You must seek your kin for that kind of validity."

The girl's eyes narrowed. She took a step forward – a contrasting and diminutive figure against that strength and power that the Qunari before her endowed. "My _mother_," she couldn't help but say the word with a certain degree of malice, "would be content with drowning so long as she had an audience. She sits, at this very moment, in her armchair surrounded by concerned relatives. Relatives who have mattered to her more than her own children."

"Your mother is grieving. Not many are afforded that luxury – she should accept it. And you should not begrudge her that."

"Her _pedigree_ of relatives consists of various alcohols and sleeping draughts. Even prior to my father's death, she sought to drown herself in her own manifestations of sorrow. I...I have no sympathy for her."

Asogen said nothing for a while. He moved forward and placed a hand on the child's shoulder. He half-expected her to flinch. Not too long ago, he had done the same to an orphan in Denerim. The boy had fled in terror faster than he could have blinked. But this child had her feet firmly planted on the ground, and she looked steadfastly up at him as he did so. And those eyes. They were violet. Like his own. Like his own offspring.

Her eyes stung briefly. She swiped away the moisture quickly and shrugged his hand away from her shoulder. "I'm not asking for your sympathy. I'm thirteen years old and quite aware of the manipulations of this world. Yes, I may be a walking piece of history text. But that is because I have nothing from which to draw comparison to. Until you stepped forward, I have had to steal time with books that I was forbidden to read. I want to learn. Teach me about the Qun. Teach me about your people. Teach me how to fight like you do."

"You wish to hurt people? To kill them? To bend them to your will?" Asogen asked. In truth, his questions were a test. Many who wished to partake of the Qun's teachings desired power. In achieving this power, they assumed that religious justification would remove the burden of responsibility from their shoulders. They could never have been more wrong.

She looked shocked. "I…no. I don't wish to take someone's life. It is never going to be mine to take. I do, however, want to know things. About your culture, your way of thinking."

"Do you tire so quickly of your own?"

She took a deep breath before replying. "You want it all on the table? _Fine_. The Maker is nothing but a fairy tale. I'll admit, it is a comforting and captivating one, but it is a fairy tale nonetheless. I'm the youngest of four children. I will not be following in my father's footsteps. I will not inherit the family estate. I will not be an envoy. At best, I will be sent for Templar training or to the Chantry. Both denominations of which require one to believe in the Maker. I don't believe in the Maker. I am also not accustomed to going against my nature. It would...it would kill me."

Asogen took a step back and massaged his sore arm. The child was an enigma. She spoke with the wisdom of an Arishok and then countered that wisdom with that of infantile understanding. She was Ensaam-Ra. It was as if an ancient being was placed within the body of a child, with the limitations thereof. Fragments of ancient knowledge would shine through, but they could only be interpreted with the limited understanding of the inexperienced.

"What exactly are you asking of me, girl?"

She tore her gaze away from him. "I have no father. I never had a mother. Don't give me sympathy for my predicament. It just is. I look now to history, to warriors and those who would be heroes. Perhaps it's time I forged my own path. Wherever that may take me."

And it was at this moment, when he looked upon her with softness in his eyes and a degree of familiarity to which he was not accustomed. Amongst his own, he would be concerned about that which his eyes revealed. But with this child, everything felt pure and innocent. It felt untainted. For the first time in a long time, he didn't care if the Qunari took note.

He relented. Far too easily. "From what you spoke of earlier, I take it your mother would not mind me educating you in the ways of the Qun...?

Evangeline chuckled. "Oh. She's not _that_ inebriated. But I could make her see the light. Give me a few weeks. I'll talk her round."

* * *

><p><strong>Six months later<strong>

Ultimately, cowardice had gotten the better of her, and she had only asked for permission to be trained by a retired Chevalier. She had felt that this fictitious warrior - whose experience she embellished with considerable enjoyment - would have been more acceptable than the imposing figure of Asogen and what he represented. Her mother acquiesced without much of a fuss. After all, the child's father had seen no problem with teaching her himself.

"I can't move with this damned contraption on!"

"Just hold still and let me tighten the arms," said Asogen as he grabbed the leather buckle around her pauldrons and adjusted the straps.

"You fight with so little armor. Teach me to do the same."

"I can take a hit. If someone were to hit you with the same force, you would return home with many a broken bone. If you would return at all."

She made a face; in mocking mimicry of his own. Outwardly, Asogen did nothing but acknowledge it. Inwardly, he couldn't help but smile. It was not too far in the past when one of...his own...had given way to petulance and the emotions that accompanied adolescence.

"I hate it when you're grim." said Evangeline. Several beads of sweat trickled down the side of her narrow face.

"Battle is grim. War is grim. You want me to teach you to fight? No one goes into battle with a cheerful disposition. Stop squirming."

"I want to do more than just fight – _ow!_"

Asogen scowled. "Would you prefer it if I tied pillows to your person instead?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you."

"Then stand still and let me put your armor on. _Properly._"

* * *

><p>They practiced well into the night. It was a luxury, having this much time to learn from him. After being schooled by a string of tutors at home, and for several hours at a time, she would be fortunate to have even a few hours to learn all the knowledge that her new Qunari friend had to impart.<p>

It was arduous, draining and often painful – Asogen had warned her of this at the beginning. The Qun assesses one's abilities at a very young age, he had said. If you are charismatic and skilled at gathering knowledge and passing it on to others, you would be trained to teach amongst the Qunari and uphold the Qun. If you were silver-tongued and proficient at procuring and selling goods, you would be instructed to live your life as a merchant. In this way, everyone has purpose in their servitude to the Qun.

In the beginning, despite her alleged interests in learning how to fight, Evangeline secretly wished to be a scholar. Not one of the stuffy sages that strolled through the Trevelyan library. An authentic educator. One who had traveled, and witnessed…one who had partaken of traditions of which he had personally endured.

For a time, Asogen had humoured her. He had sat patiently as she flipped through pages of text and questioned...no, interrogated him, for certain truths. She was wily, and never asked the same question twice. She would approach it from a different angle, so as to ascertain that his knowledge was not a lie. He was fully aware of what she was doing and allowed her to follow through. Ultimately, however, Evangeline was no interrogator. She was no spy. Her flair for subtly had reached a limit, and that limit was Asogen's perception. Perhaps she would, as initially proposed, make an excellent educator instead. But she had little patience for those who did not comprehend and retreated to deep wells of silence if asked the same question more than twice.

What she excelled at was fighting. And while he felt quite inadequate as a moral educator, he was well aware of her skills and knew how to polish her into a warrior worthy of the Qun.

The raw talent of the girl had shocked him. It had taken him quite by surprise that day on the cliffs. She fought with a ferocity that mirrored his. It had taken him some time to comprehend that the reasons behind her fervor were similar to his own. They both – despite an age gap of several decades – were fleeing from something they were never prepared to acknowledge. Asogen dodged the stoic dogma of the Qun. Questions of conscience plagued him relentlessly. It was only in battle or duty that he could avoid it. An underlying sense of guilt – her abandonment of her duties towards her family – pursued Evangeline. If she was truly a good daughter, she would have relinquished much to attend to the welfare of her family. Instead, she resorted to stealing away from her kin, in order to chase after knowledge that would otherwise be denied her.

And so time pressed on, as both parties partook in the lies and truths that were awarded them, and took solace in the friendship and company of each other.

* * *

><p><strong>Four years later<strong>

"Imagine my horror when the Viscounts daughter stumbled upon this! Pictures of half-nude demons!"

Evangeline remained frozen in place. She had anticipated outbursts such as these years before. She was not entirely truthful when it came to her schooling with the Qunari. She had quite the silver tongue when it came to her mother, and had succeeded in making her believe that she was merely studying the traditions of the Qunari, well-known to be a difficult race, in preparations to be take on an ambassadorial role on behalf of the Trevelyans. She was adept at covering up bruises, welts and gouges that she had earned during her combat practice with Asogen. So good in fact that she had neglected to cover up other pieces of evidence that would betray her true intent.

And now, her mother had stumbled upon observations of Qunari life that she had learned from Asogen.

She tried to downplay the entire outburst. "These are Qunari, mother. Many of them do not wear chest armor. I was merely trying to catalog different races –"

"Don't tell me about Qunari, child. I am an educated woman. I am well aware of all the races in Thedas."

"I didn't presume to – "

"Have I failed? Have I failed as a mother so that you would turn to such fickle...amusements?"

Evangeline took in a deep breath. Asogen had often referred to this emotion of hers as the raging bull. He had commented, with considerable amusement, on her flaring nostrils. _One look at the steam coming out of your ears_, he had said, _and I would know precisely what makes you tick. I would use that to my advantage. Don't let them have that_.

She clenched her fists and look down at the ridiculous shoes that she had been made to wear.

"No, mother. You haven't failed. The fault is my own."

"Has Huron been allowing you to fill your head with this drivel?" She shook Evangeline's journal in the air with menace.

"No, mother." Her voice switched to monotone. "I am solely to blame."

Her mother's gaze softened somewhat and she stepped forward. In a rare moment of tenderness, she cupped her hand around her daughter's face. "You know what the Viscountess said to me the other day?"

Evangeline shrugged her shoulders in limited curiousity.

"She said that my youngest could be so pretty. So beautiful. If only she tried. Why did you have to go and cut your hair so short, Evangeline?" Her mother gently traced the shortened, spiky hair.

Evangeline stood up suddenly, almost knocking over the side table next to her. "I'm not sure if you have noticed yet, but Annette has received five proposals, Claudia has received six and Elena – four. I, dear Mother, have received none. Not a one. I repel boys, but I'm not going to sit here and feel sorry for myself. In fact, I'm glad of it. There is so much more to life than dolling yourself up. Just think about it. It's a facade to hide who you truly are. As are these soirees. It's all well and good if you enjoy that sort of thing, but it's just not..._me_. And I'm okay with that."

Her mother stepped back. Her face grew taut and her lips thinned. "You speak with the constrained knowledge of youth. We do not choose our station in life. We are born into it. And with it come certain obligations and responsibilities. This Salon is very important to me. We will be entertaining visitors from across Thedas, and we must keep up good appearances. I don't want them to think of you as a representative of Free Marchers. Especially dressed as you are."

"Then let me sit this one out." she pleaded.

"Absolutely not. You can play the man all you wish on your own time, but you are a Trevelyan. You will act the Lady when duty calls for you. I did it at your age, and your sisters do so now. Why must you be the exception?"

Evangeline scowled but could not reply. She herself had no answer.

"I don't expect you to understand," said her mother coolly. "But I do expect you to play a role. We are Trevelyans. And we do not shirk our obligations. Now straighten yourself out. Our guests will arrive this evening and there is much to do yet."

She attempted to soften the reprimand with a wan smile towards her youngest and then walked away; the thick skirt of her dress bustling behind her.


	3. Swooping is Bad

**Author's note: By jove, this was fun to write. The scene at the very end was stolen from one of my favourite books (well, favourite up to a certain point. Namely the Jo and Laurie fiasco), Little Women, or perhaps the film adaptation of it. Thank you for reading!**

* * *

><p>Evangeline scrambled through the brush in haste. Why did her mother have such poor timing? And why did she have to be cursed with harebrained inattentiveness? Scheduling two weighty events on the same day? What an imbecile. She should have told Asogen that this test could wait another day. But he was to return to Kirkwall briefly and had delayed his journey for her. It would be thoughtless and unkind to make him wait. Her conscience jabbed at her ability to feel for the Qunari more than her own mother.<p>

_It's just that Mother is so __**different**_, she thought to herself. So were her siblings. They were better suited to be Orlesian courtiers whereas Evangeline would have preferred scooping up horse manure than participating in the political machinations of such distinguished soirees. _Now_, spoke her conscience, _that was unfair_. Her sisters were her only friends. To clump them together with other with hollow-minded bootlickers was a little too harsh. It's just that they took such events far too seriously. These ceremonies occured twice a year, and once right before the Grand Tourney. Where Knights, Chevaliers and renowned warriors would flock to the Free Marches for the chance to compete and place their skills on exhibition. The Grand Tourney was an honest competition, often free of deception and definitely devoid of court intrigue. You'd put swords in one another's hands and then, well, have at it. May the better man win. Straightforward and simple. These Court affairs were puppeteered with words, allegiances and other subtle accomplishments.

They gave Evangeline a bad case of the nerves. A few phrases out of place and she could damage alliances that her family had worked hard to form. Of course, this was only with arse-sniffing Orlesians. The Fereldans were a little more relaxed and understanding. But the thought did little to assuage her apprehension. She would be a nervous wreck before the entire affair. She was certain of it.

"You're late," remarked Asogen as she burst into a clearing where he was to meet her.

"I got ambushed by Mother. She wanted to know what I was going to be wearing and how I wanted my hair –" Evangeline noticed a darkening glower that had begun to move across the Qunari's face. "I – sorry. Never mind."

"Are you ready?"

_Not really, no_. "Yes." she lied.

"You must be certain. Focused. This is no longer sport. You could get hurt. Even killed."

Evangeline let out an apprehensive, hollowed laugh. "Ha! That's one way to avoid the salon." She studied his countenance for any sign of amusement. There was none. "Not...funny? Not even a little?" she ventured, hopefully.

"You think this a game? This is survival. Should you join the Qun, you will undoubtedly be accepted into our ranks as a soldier. Battle will become second nature to you. It will never be your plaything."

Evangeline groaned in response. "_Relax_. Just trying to ease the tension. You know how I am. A good wisecrack every now and again hasn't done anyone harm."

"I beg to disagree. Under duress, your jokes are considerably appalling." He smiled, and entertained a brief moment of levity. "Shall we go then?" She nodded and he led her up the mountain path to their destination.

* * *

><p>Evangeline would have made short work of the sword-wielding bandits if it hadn't been for a lone archer perched atop a rocky overhang. These weren't ordinary bandits. They were well-coordinated and made good use of their honed skills. An arrow was let loose above and in front of her; the only flank that she thought she had covered. It struck her shoulder and bounced off, repelled effectively by her armor.<p>

This wasn't a good position to be in and she knew it. Three well-armed men began to close ranks. She was literally between a rock and a hard place. She assessed the strength of each man rapidly. The one she had wounded limped closer. _Him_. He would be the weak link. She charged forward with all her might, bringing her left shoulder up to face and jabbed a sword into his injured abdomen. He crumbled to the ground in pain. She could have killed him in that moment by angling her weapon upwards and towards his heart. But Asogen had said that these men were to apprehended alive. He had also said that any half-decent soldier possessed the ability to kill their adversaries but it took true skill to subdue without spilling blood.

Somewhat shielded from the bowman in this new position, she clamored past the now-broken wall of men and attacked them quickly from behind. She leapt onto the back of one and flung her arms around his neck in order to render him unconscious. He struggled frantically and jabbed his elbow in the direction of her face. She dodged the hit. The other man was trying to pry her off of his companion, and in the foray, his blade became locked with that of his comrade. Evangeline tightened her grip. In an effort to break free, the flailing man accidentally thrust his sword into his counterpart. She could hear the metal breaking past armor.

She fell backwards and onto her elbows. A swift assessment of the evolving situation told her that both men, lying prostrate on the ground, were no longer a threat. She let out a relieved sigh. However, a hail of arrows descended around her and ended the brief reprieve.

He was too high to reach quickly. If she had decided to climb up towards his position, he would undoubtedly take advantage of her vulnerability as she scaled the wall of rock. _Rock_. Evangeline quickly surveyed her environment. She dashed towards a moderately-sized hunk of stone. She picked it up. _Yes, this will do_. With her strong arm, she pulled back and unleashed the projectile in the direction of the archer. With a little luck, the hit would stagger him. She certainly did not expect him to lose his footing on the ledge as he dodged the missile and fell to the ground in front of her.

Breathing heavily, she couldn't help but smile at her handiwork. "Well. I'll be damned."

* * *

><p>It felt as if his heart pounded more than ever as he watched her fight. He clenched his fists and felt his hand grow sweaty and cold. Her left flank was always her weakest one, and judging by the lengthiness of the scuffle, she had yet to fix that problem. She was taking too many hits. As each strike landed on her person, Asogen grimaced in what could only be compared to father-like empathy. He was surprised at this surge of concern, and didn't know what to make of it. His instinct split into two. Should she start to stumble beneath the arduous task, he would have to intervene. <em>No, she has to learn, adapt. Aid her and you weaken her<em>. She took a blow to her abdomen and cried out in pain as she reeled backwards. Asogen stepped forward impulsively and then stopped himself. She was up and back on her feet already.

_Wait._

Utterly engrossed in Evangeline's dangerous predicament, he hadn't heard the man approach him from behind until he stood alongside the Qunari. Asogen started and began to unsheathe his sword as soon as saw the blade that lay in the other man's hand.

"Aren't you going to help her?" he demanded with a judging stare.

The man was just a boy. He could not have been more than twenty. But his gaze was set and solid. Traits that only arose through the knowledge of battle.

"No. She fights to join the Karasaad – our soldier rank. If she cannot face this on her own, there will no future for her with the Qun." Asogen placed a warning hand in front of the young man.

"I – _what?_"

"Her strongest asset is her ability to fight. She is skilled at many other things, but in this she would excel. To know that you cannot overcome a hurdle with that which only your greatest talent can conquer brings shame down upon you."

The boy glared up at Asogen. "I don't want to hear you recite the Qun! She'll be crushed! She won't be able to handle them." He gestured in Evangeline's direction. "These are Antivan Crows. They're not common bandits. They're fierce fighters and they fight dirty. Their bowmen frequently use poison-tipped arrows."

"And how do you know so much about the Crows? How did you know this is where they'd be?" Asogen scrutinized the boy's face as he glowered at him.

"I'm after the bounty. Which is, I presume, the reason for why you're here as well." The boy rubbed his brow in frustration. "We have to help her. And if you're not going to do anything about it, I will. You'll have to kill me to stop me."

"Parshaara!" exclaimed Asogen as his gaze lit on Evangeline. A smile grew across his face. "It is done. See for yourself."

They looked below. Evangeline sat on a boulder, one hand on her knee as she looked at the ground, exhausted. It was finally over.

"No longer a fledgling," muttered Asogen under his breath as he beamed with pride at her accomplishment.

* * *

><p>"How on earth am I supposed to cover the cut up? There's only so much I can do with a bit of rouge and powder!"<p>

"She could wear a mask. With the Orlesians here, it won't cause a stir."

"Mother said 'no masks'."

Evangeline studied her reflection in the mirror as her sisters fussed over her. The cut across her cheekbone was circled by the bluish-black hue of an emerging bruise. She was thrilled to have come out of that fight with all her limbs intact, but the advent of this evening's events made her stomach churn.

"There's nothing we can do," said her oldest sister, despondent. "If you hadn't hacked away your tresses we could have managed something. Couldn't you have at least had a professional attend to your hair?"

Evangeline snarled in the deep of her throat. "There was no time." She rose from the chair in which she was seated and walked towards the dress that had been laid across her sister's bed. It was less extravagant than those which her sisters would be attired in, and it was an intriguing shade of maroon. Best of all, the skirt was shorter and would not be a tripping hazard. She found herself being grateful for this rare occasion when her mother actually listened.

She picked up the dress and draped it across her forearm. She turned to her sisters before leaving. "I'll try to remain inconspicuous throughout the evening. With any luck, they might mistake me for a bedraggled Elven servant. And...thank you for helping. At least we tried, huh?"

* * *

><p>The salon was in full swing. Everything seemed perfect. Lady Trevelyan did not skimp when it came to being hospitable, and she – together with her sister, Lucille – planned the evening with tactical prowess that would have been the envy of military officers. The lighting was warm – not too bright nor too dark. The music was tasteful and covered both Orlesian and Fereldan classics. Glasses clinked happily together as people exchanged pleasantries and engaging chatter.<p>

Introductions over, the Trevelyan sisters stood before the massive fireplace and surveyed their environment.

Evangeline's sister, Claudia – the second oldest, gave a little hop of excitement. "Oh _Maker_. Jean was right. There are Templars here!" She adjusted her lapis lazuli headdress and turned to Evangeline. Her deep blue eyes shone with excitement. "Templars! _Young _Templars!"

Evangeline looked back at Claudia with fear in her eyes. "Will we have to dance? Last time, Elena had to dance in front of everyone. Please don't make me dance."

Claudia squeezed Evangeline's arm. "Do you see them over there? In that corner? Come on, Evie! Where's your sense of excitement? Hop with me!"

"Do please contain yourself," instructed Annette. "You're going to do yourself an injury."

"Oh bug-whistles," chortled Elena. "Let Claudia have her fun. She is, after all, in her element." She smiled warmly at Evangeline. "How are you holding up, Evie girl?"

Evangeline stood, alarmingly still, absolutely petrified.

"Evie?" asked a concerned Elena as she touched her youngest sister's arm.

Evangeline started. "Fine. _Fine_. Everything's fine." And then, "can I go stand by the balcony? I don't think this bruised face is going to score you many points in the find-a-boy arena."

"No," said Elena gently. "Mother may want you to, but we want you near us. If someone doesn't approve of you, well, we don't approve of them."

"Speak for yourself." said Claudia, only half-joking. "If that Templar over there asks me to elope with him, I'd leave you girls in a heartbeat."

Annette rolled her eyes.

All at once, Claudia spun around and shielded her face from the crowd. "He saw me! He caught me looking at him! What do I do?"

"Well, you'd better think of something quickly, because your paramour and his entourage are heading this way." suggested Annette. "Oh, and Claudia? Even if everything goes well, try not to bring one home until you've ascertained the quality of his moral character. The last one had quite a temper on him."

"Turn around, Claudia," laughed Elena. "You're beautiful. You've got nothing to hide."

"But I'm blushing!"

"Flushed cheeks are very becoming."

"What about bruised cheeks?" whimpered Evangeline as she skulked behind Elena's figure. "Have pity on me, Elena, and let me go." she hissed into her sister's ear. Elena shook her head in frustrated dismissal.

The young Templar and his five compatriots stood before the Trevelyan girls and smiled nervously. The one who had caught Claudia's perceptive eye stretched out his hand in her direction. "Bastian Dubois at your service," he bowed graciously at Claudia and grinned. She issued a wan smile, quite captivated by the handsome young man. "Allow me to introduce my colleagues. Riordan Thiel of Denerim, Alec Stroud of Orlais and Cullen Rutherford of Honnleath."

"A pleasure. You are all training to be Templars?" asked Annette. "How do you come to be in Ostwick?"

"Not all of us," remarked Stroud. "At least not yet."

"Alec likes to stand out." chuckled Bastian. "We're here with our Commander on Templar business. Alec insists on participating in the Grand Tourney next week and we want to support him while we're here."

Annette smiled politely at the boy. Stroud really was quite striking. His dark hair wasn't as short as that of his counterparts – which endowed him with an endearing boy-like quality. His deep-set grey eyes looked back at his surroundings with purpose. He seemed to be looking for something. "Is something troubling you, Alec?" asked Annette, curious.

"I...no. I just thought that you had three sisters. I remember the court introducing three."

Elena pursed her lips, reached behind her person and yanked her youngest sister into view. "We most certainly do. This is our sister, Evangeline. Do say hello, Evie."

Stroud's mouth widened into a vindicated grin. "It was you! I knew it was you! You fought the Crows!"

Evangeline froze. Her sisters looked at her in puzzlement. They were well aware that she had a penchant for sword-fighting, but they believed that her lessons in this field were sporadic and were content to humour her whims. For a time. If only they knew the extent of it.

"I...I hate birds." She spat out, reaching for something, anything, to get her out of this predicament. "Crows especially. The guano, you see. It's everywhere. And they swoop down on anything. These were a different breed. Aggressive." _Oh dear heavens_, she thought, _she was wading deeper and deeper into mired waters of her own design._

"Yes. Swooping is bad," remarked Stroud with amusement. "I trust you got that all cleared up then?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"Had any trouble with the guano? Those were aggressive birds after all. It wouldn't be unreasonable to conclude that their - "

" - I took care of it." She flung daggers at him with her eyes.

"But you didn't kill any, did you?"

"I..._no_."

"That takes considerable skill. Crows can be faster than one would imagine. And their beaks are sharp." Still grinning, he pointed to his cheek and nodded in her direction. "Is that how you got that shiner there? Did a crow fly into you?"

Evangeline's fear began to coalesce with anger. Her nostrils had started to flare. Why was he tormenting her like this? It was all too evident that he had learned of her secret, and more alarmingly, he knew that her sisters were quite unaware of it.

Thankfully, a life-line was flung in her direction due to Claudia's impatience. "The night's pressing on and the music is simply delightful." she noted with purpose.

Bastian shook his head in self-reprimand. "Where are my manners? Lady Trevelyan, would you care to have this dance with me?"

Claudia gracefully accepted and locked her arm with Bastian's. She looked back at her sisters as she walked away and beamed. She was positively elated.

Elena was summoned by a servant who said that her mother desired her presence. Annette acquiesced to dancing with Riordan, and Evangeline was left to fend for herself. But she needn't have been too worried. A man in full Templar regalia beckoned to Stroud, who grudgingly left the conversation.

The other Templar, Cullen something or the other, remained quietly by her side. Evangeline let out a deeply held breath and leaned against the pillar that flanked the fireplace. The boy smiled at this release of tension. "On behalf of my friend, I apologize. Stroud would make a fine Templar, but he lacks diplomacy. He is also a bit of a joker. It uh...it drives the girls wild."

"Evidently his charms do not work on me." she said with residual anger. She was still reeling from how close her family had come to learning of her clandestine pastime.

_Thank goodness for that_, he thought to himself. He stood awkwardly next to her and studied her out of the corner of his eye. The rest of her siblings were bestowed with gleaming blonde hair. Hers lay on the opposite end of the spectrum. It was black, and cut...well, short. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that some strands of hair were of various lengths. That, coupled with the angry bruise that adorned her pale cheek suggested that she made no pretense of her disdain for primping and preening. It came across as oddly...endearing. Underneath the dark brows and even darker scowl, she was quite pretty. Perhaps not as radiant as her fairer sibling, Claudia, but then again, girls of that sort were uninteresting. Evangeline was a bit of an enigma, and he was beginning to see what had drawn Stroud towards her.

She moved forward decisively. "I...need to take advantage of this brief reprieve to make a hasty retreat. I hope you don't mind."

She looked up at him, evidently desperate to escape before Stroud returned to pick up where he left off. Cullen couldn't help but laugh.

"Well. I'm glad one of us finds this situation amusing." she remarked - the corners of her mouth turned downwards.

"I uh...never meant to offend."

She exhaled. "I know. I apologize. It's just that he could have ruined everything."

Cullen raised his eyebrows.

Just great. She'd let her mouth run away with her again. She was reluctant to satiate his curiousity, but this one seemed...nice. _Oh what the hell_. "I enjoy swordplay. Most of my family is aware of this. What they aren't aware of is how long this has been going on, and how much time I've invested in it. Your blabbermouth of a friend must have seen me today, and nearly gave the game away." She clenched her fists at her side.

Cullen mouthed a silent _oh_.

"Is he always that persistent?" she questioned.

"I'm afraid so." He moved a step closer and lowered his voice. "But what's wrong with learning how to defend yourself?"

Evangeline threw an aghast expression in his direction. "I'm not learning how to defend myself! What - you think all girls are constantly afraid and in dire need of protection? _Bloody hell_ - what is wrong with you men? I want to fight. I like it. Okay, maybe I'm a little fascinated by the...violence of it, but it is what it is. You're learning to be a Templar after all. Surely you can relate?"

"I enjoy the discipline of it."

She narrowed her eyes. "And the physical effort you put in too. Admit it."

Cullen laughed. "Alright. Maybe a little." And on further consideration, "Or a lot."

"It's the physical release, isn't it? I think it stems from being trapped. Or stuck. And if you're talented, why not flaunt it?"

"You think I feel trapped?"

"I...don't know how _you_ feel. I'm just drawing on my own experiences."

"Trapped by...?"

Evangeline smiled at him knowingly, grabbed the sides of her dress and stretched the velvet material in opposite directions. "This isn't me."

"Evidently not." He smiled despite himself. "Then who is the _real_ Evangeline Trevelyan?"

She hesitated. "I don't know yet. I may not know for a long time to come. I just know what I'm not. And why are _you_ so curious?"

"It's just...well," he stared into her eyes for the better part of a minute as his voice faltered. They were violet. Only the Qunari possessed such a hue and passed it down from generation to generation. Something unusual came over Evangeline as well. Try as she might, she couldn't look away. Her heart pounded a little faster and her knees seemed as if they were caving under the weight of the body they had so long been accustomed to carrying. Everything, everyone in the room seemed to dissipate into irrelevancy. There was only him. _Why is he looking at me like that for? Why doesn't he look away?_

Slightly frightened by the change that was sweeping over her, she blinked and looked away, breaking the spell. He followed suit and feigned great interest in the dancing crowd. His hands were cold and yet he felt exhilarated. She was different. Unlike anyone he'd met. With strengthened resolve, he had decided to ask her for a dance. He turned around...and she was gone.

He scanned the moving crowd for any sign of her. She had slipped away carefully, she had managed to – _there_. At the other end of the room, he watched as a noblewoman swept across the floor in the arms of her partner. Behind the lady's extravagant attire, a figure would sometimes reveal itself in an attempt to keep up with the movements of the dancing pair. The figure was using the dancers as moving cover.

Cullen's face broke into a wide smile. He was determined to have that dance.


	4. Princess Stabbity Strikes Again

**Princess Stabbity Strikes Again**

Evangeline managed to reach the balcony without being spotted. After ensuring that it was devoid of seclusion-seeking lovers and people after her own heart, she quickly shifted all the potted-plants towards the balcony door. _There_. Now that made it inaccessible. She sunk down wearily onto the marble bench. If she ever had to endure another day like this one, it would be too soon.

And then there was the matter of...well, whatever that was with the Cullen boy. It was an aspect of herself that she was unfamiliar with. The attention of the opposite sex had always denied her, and at first, the rebuke and prejudice of it bothered her terribly. She grew more introverted, while her beautiful sisters were being courted – some by multiple men at a time – she looked to other means of solace. She was, when it came down to it, a selfish dreamer. It was far too easy to embroil herself in tales of legend. She steeped her imagination in tales of Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, Ser Calenhad, King Maric and his closest friend and advisor, Loghain – her list of her favourite historical figures was a lengthy one.

And ultimately, she was a sap for a good yarn. True or not. Take the tale of Ferelden's former king, for example. Rumour had it that Maric was in love with an Elven spy, Katriel, prior to marriage to his betrothed, Rowan of Redcliffe. The Orlesians, in their bid for Ferelden occupation, had concocted an elaborate scheme to do away with the rightful king. They had the elf play victim to a false raid that had done away with her entire family. She was to seduce her way into Maric's heart and betray him. Except that it didn't quite pan out as intended. As Maric fell in love with the elf, she did the same with him. Pangs of conscience wracked her initial motives and she could not bring herself to harm the man she now loved. Enter Loghain. What Maric was to the brighter future of Ferelden, Loghain was to its darker nature. He was a somber, yet practical man. He was a seasoned warrior and cunning strategist. He was willing to make the tough calls and bear the burden of their consequences.

So, given such qualities, it came as no surprise to her that he eventually unraveled the Orlesian plot. As he did so, he also recognized that the elf no longer wished to send his king to his death. But he elected to omit this crucial detail. To him, the elf was a liability and a significant threat to Maric's claim to the throne. He bore this grim news to Maric and painted this treachery with darkened hues of his own enmity towards the Orlesians. Good king Maric allowed his emotions to get the better of him and confronted his lover. As she admitted to her former designs she simultaneously confessed that her love for him had done away with all her harmful intentions. Tears streaming down her face, she begged for her life and the opportunity to prove her loyalty. Maric, angered and hurt beyond words, ran his sword through her. Only later did her recognize that Katriel's love for him was genuine. The realization almost broke him.

Evangeline's eyes shone as she looked up at the starry sky. Entrapment, loyalty, betrayal, love and death. This tale had it all.

At night, she would sit outside and fantasize about such legends. She envisioned herself _there_, in their time. Fighting their battles. Mourning their losses. Celebrating their victories. It was a welcome escape. She began to take great pleasure from this quiet solitude. It was welcome, kind, and provided her a sense of freedom she had never experienced before.

Evangeline was also particularly drawn to Andraste and the woman's alleged connection to the Maker. As she grew older, her beliefs began to manifest disjunction from faith and reality. The Maker was all-seeing and all-knowing. Fine. But what good was He when he turned his back on the suffering of His people? Thousands sought solace in the Chant, but were not rewarded. And what about Andraste, herself? The woman burned at the stake, for heaven's sake. She was His chosen. She was to spread His word. She was to help people in His name. Why did He not intervene?

To Evangeline, the answer was clear. There was no Maker.

She maintained this heretical belief but secured it within. Only Elena, her sweet Elena, knew of it. She participated in her duties towards the Chantry, she sang the Chant. But all of it was an elaborate masquerade and she was too much of a coward in this regard to admit to it.

The answers to her questions didn't lie in Ostwick. That much was clear. She doubted that it even existed amidst the ragtag gentry that was Free Marches. She would have to venture farther, when she was older, on her own. For now, she had to make do with journeys they made together as a household.

Her father would often take them north to Rivain, and she reveled in the foreign noises and pleasant scent of spices in Dairsmuid's bustling marketplaces. She thought it a mere glimpse of an elaborate picture. When she was older she would foray deeper into the world and allow herself to get lost in it. Such journeys awoke in her senses that she didn't know she possessed.

Just as that Cullen boy had.

_Ugh_. Not that again. She pushed him out of her mind and centered her focus on the more immediate. Her feet throbbed with pain that she was finally ready to acknowledge. She removed the torturous contraption that had ensnared them and sighed in relief. In the bright light of the moon she noticed that her formerly scrunched toes had turned white.

"You poor things," she mumbled to herself, as she assessed the damage. "I won't allow Aunt Lucille's demonic fashion sense to ever touch you again." She wiggled and stretched her toes. It hurt, but it was a good kind of pain. As if the ligaments and muscles were waking up.

"I knew a man who would kiss his foot goodnight every night before bed. Not both feet. Just the one."

She jumped slightly in alarm. "How did you...?"

Stroud's eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "I can be quiet if I choose."

"I have had quite enough of your...your – "

"Wit? Banter? Charm?" he offered helpfully.

"My family has no idea of my training. You would have ruined everything. You would have taken away something that means a great deal to me and destroyed my relationship with my family. And your glibness amidst it all sickens me."

"I know."

She was rendered mute by the unexpected response.

"That's why I'm here," he began. He moved forward and sat down on the bench beside her. "I came to apologize. I even brought you a peace offering."

He pulled out something that had been neatly wrapped in silk. It was flat, solid and sharp.

"I...can't accept gifts from people I don't know," Evangeline said hesitantly.

"Okay." He smiled in the moonlight. "Do me a favour and open it though. If you don't like it, I'll take it back."

She humoured him and unfolded the wrapped item carefully. It was a polished dagger. The blade had unfamiliar engravings on it, as did the hilt. The grip was made of rich felt and she couldn't help but handle the dagger just as Asogen had taught her many years ago. It was a beautiful instrument and must have cost him a pretty penny. After several seconds of playing with it, she turned to Stroud.

"How much did you pay for this?"

He took a deep breath. "It was gifted to me, actually, by a very talented swordfighter in Rivain. She gave it to me before she died."

"And the circumstances that brought about the gift-giving...?"

"If you spend some more time with me, I'd consider sharing that."

Evangeline frowned. "_Okay_. Let's get something straight. I am not - " she pointed in the direction of the ballroom inside, "– going to swoon over you like the girls out there. I have had a trying day and am in no mood to play games. Now tell me why you're here and tell me what you want. Just be forthright, dispense with the niceties, and I promise I will do whatever I can to help you. No bribes required."

She started to hand the elegant dagger back to him but he pushed it back in refusal, and grasped her hand gently as he did so.

"I don't really want anything." He flinched; aware of his mistake. "Well. Okay. I do want something. Would it be so terrible if I wanted to spend some time with you while I'm here in Ostwick?"

She withdrew her hand. "This is about Asogen, isn't it. You want me to ask him to train you for the Grand Tourney."

"Nope."

"You want me to introduce you to Claudia?"

He laughed.

"You need some coin to pay back people who you've borrowed money from."

"Wrong on both counts. Honestly, Evangeline, what kind of person do you think I am?"

She looked at him, uncertain. "I haven't the foggiest."

"Will you give us the opportunity to get to know one another?"

His countenance seemed sincere. But gauging people's motives from subtle inflections of expression was something she wasn't terribly good at. One thing she did know was that he intrigued her. And the attention was nice. She had been so accustomed to driving boys away with her harshness that when one finally paid her mind, something solid crumbled within her. So this is what it was like.

"I...okay," she conceded.

His smile soon reflected her own. "There's a Rivaini encampment on Hallowed Hill. I sometimes go there and sit and listen to their music. Would you like to come with me there tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"What time shall I – "

Their conversation was cut short by a cacophony in the ballroom. Ladies screamed as glass and various items crashed to the floor.

The pair leapt to their feet.

"What is it?" he said as he peered through the glass door.

She opened the door a crack and saw something short and four-legged zig-zag its way through the crowd.

She had forgotten to lock the dog up. She turned to Stroud, the colour rapidly draining from her face. "I have to fix this. I can't stay – she will have my head for this..."

"Wait! What time should I stop by tomorrow?"

"I will not live to see tomorrow!" she shouted back as she darted through the doorway.

* * *

><p>Mabaris were intelligent animals. Most of their proud owners claimed that they were intelligent enough to understand their handler's language and wise enough to not let on. Evangeline's own Mabari certainly fit the bill. He possessed many human-like emotions. Some days he served as comforting presence - not just to Evangeline, but the rest of the household as well. Another day, during a visit from her aunt and uncle, Aunt Lucille had insisted that they keep him well away from her. Bunty was quite wounded and had decided to exact his revenge. He stole into Aunt Lucille's room and nosed through several of her clothes. He grabbed her underthings in his mouth and promptly set about burying it all in the courtyard. Other times, he would sit quietly outside and gaze up at the stars for a time. Evangeline's heart melted whenever this compunction came over him. She would say nothing, put a reassuring hand on his back and stare up at the sky with him.<p>

But today? Today he was all _dog_.

She spotted him darting underneath a woman's ruffled skirt. The woman squealed and turned about repeatedly in an attempt to get the creature to go away. Bunty thought this was all in good fun and leapt out of her way only to blunder into someone else's legs.

"_Here!_" cried Evangeline. "Here, Bunty! Stop this nonsense at once!"

Her shoulder accidentally bumped into a man carrying drinks. They spilled and crashed to the floor. "Sorry! So sorry!" she wailed.

Where was the blasted dog?

Bunty popped out from under a table and bent down on his front legs, his rear sticking up in the air – his little stub of a tail wagging mightily. He barked in glorious delight.

"This is not a game!" She lunged forward to grab him. He nimbly pounced to one side and escaped.

The sea of people had parted; the crowd had gathered along the walls of the large ballroom and watched the unfolding spectacle with bewildered fascination.

Bunty took off at top speed. His ears lay happily back and his tongue lolled to the right as he galloped forward. He was so caught up in the moment that he didn't notice that he had run straight into the encircling arms of his captor.

"I have him!" shouted Cullen.

The Mabari struggled against the boy but did not bite. Evangeline ran up to them in relieved gratitude.

"Should we get a leash?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She remained rooted to the spot; slackjawed. Then, all at once, she bent down and picked up the large dog in her arms. He had gone quiet and struggled no more. Evidently he was well aware of the tumult he had wrought and the guilt was starting to show. With her heavy dog held in front of her, all four of its paws dangling helplessly before it, she walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>"That's your fifth drink!" exclaimed Elena.<p>

"And yet it's not enough. I prefer to forget the events of this evening. Fragments of it still remain. Vivid. Fragments. More wine, barkeep!" demanded Evangeline as she held an empty glass in the air.

Elena rolled her eyes heavenwards. "Oh for pity's sake." She rose reluctantly and proceeded to uncork another bottle of wine. "There is no barkeep in the cellar."

Evangeline pointed vigorously at the empty glass. "Fill that thing up, my good woman."

Her sister sloshed the wine into the large cup. "So you're saying that Alec wants to spend some time with you tomorrow?"

"You should be more concerned about my rapidly shortening lifespan and less about my nonexistent love life. After Mother decides to emerge from her room, my neck will become well-acquainted with a headsman's axe. Actually, no. She won't hire a headsman. She'll execute me herself." She raised her hand in the imitation of a blade and brought it down on the table with a resounding thud. "So long as it's quick and painless."

"Curb the gallows humour, Evie." she said sternly. She took a bite of the small meal in front of her and then steered her sister back on topic. "Why on earth would Alec ask to spend time with you?"

The corners of Evangeline's mouth turned downwards. "I know I may not be half the looker that you are, my good man, but award me a little dignity. I have very little of it left anyway. There is no need for that display of incredulity. _And_...to answer your astute question: I have no bloody idea."

"You misjudge my incredulity, Evie girl. I just want to understand the boy's motives." She reached out and patted her sister's hand. "You really are quite beautiful. You do know that, don't you?"

Evangeline took a gulp of wine. "Of course I am. To you. You love me – I'm your sister. How does the saying go? Love is the all-seeing eye?" She looked away in deliberation. "Um. That's not right. At any rate, whatever the saying, love instills prejudice – whether that's good or bad can only be examined with more alcohol."

"I think you've had quite enough."

"I have to tell you – the attentions of one boy is manageable. Two makes it more treacherous than...than…oh, for crying out loud. Where's a facetious metaphor when you need one?" She rubbed her eyes in an effort to remain awake and lucid. "I mean, the attention's nice and all. I finally feel as if I've stepped over the threshold into a new world." She sighed. "But I wouldn't expect you understand, Claudia. You are well versed in such affairs. Half the boys in Ostwick are madly in love with you. Heh..falling in and out of love must be customary for you at this point."

"_I...am...Elena_," said her older sister deliberately. But it was no use. The wine had finally gone to her head. The best she could do now is to garner the truth of the events of this evening. If ever a truth serum did exist for her beloved sister, it was alcohol. "What did you mean by '_two_'? There was another chap?"

Evangeline paused, thinking. It took her several minutes to respond. "The Cullen boy. I forget his last name. I think he wanted to dance. And kiss. Maybe. I wanted to kiss him, that's for sure."

Elena smiled fondly at her sister. "Did you now. What about Alec? Did you not want to kiss him?"

"Honestly? I don't know anymore. I feel like blob of kneaded dough. Kneaded with knives and axes and daggers and...are you going to eat that muffin?"

Elena pushed her chair away as she rose up. "I think that's enough liquor for one night. Let's get you into bed."

* * *

><p>The pair, one sister holding up the other, made slow but sure progress across the narrow hallway to their sleeping quarters.<p>

"You don't have to help – I can manage," mumbled Evangeline for the fourth time.

"That's alright. I want to help." said Elena patiently. For the fourth time.

"You're too good to me. Did I ever tell you that you're my favourite? Don't ever get married and move away, Elena." Evangeline and Elena came to an abrupt halt. Evangeline blinked stupidly ahead of her. Something manifested from the shadows; illuminated poorly from an oil lamp. She pointed in its direction. "Is that...an apparition I see before me? Speak, specter! Tell us what you want and then begone!" And then, upon a moment's reflection, "Actually, don't tell us what you want. But do the begone bit. Please and thank you."

A young man stepped forward. It was Cullen. "I have been searching for her all evening. Is she alright?"

Elena looked at the boy knowingly. "She may have had a glass too many."

"I...okay. Does her mother know?"

"No. And see to it that it remains that way. Our Evie girl has no head for alcohol."

Hurried footsteps clacked again the stone floor behind them. A servant addressed Elena, her face frantic. "Mistress Elena, the canapés have burned. There is nothing that could replace them!"

Elena grimaced. "What do you expect me to do? I'm somewhat preoccupied."

"The cook has had a breakdown. She claims that your sister's Mabari made its way into one of the food cellars. She hadn't noticed until long after. And somehow she's managed to burn all the canapés. We are at a loss for a good substitute."

"What about some crème caramel? That's easy to prepare and it doesn't take much time."

"No," she moaned, clearly flustered. "We may be out of sugar. The new cook seems to use everything in excess. Please come see to it!"

Evangeline was attempting to steady herself against a wall. She looked from Elena to Cullen and to their maid sluggishly. It was as if she was trying to piece the recent conversation together. It proved a fruitless endeavor, so she would huff in exasperation as this circular logic thwarted her.

"Go, Elena. Save yourself," she said with significant drama. She swayed with inebriation. "I will hold the fiends off." She gestured in Cullen's direction. "And take this Chavalier with you. He will direct you to safety. Do you hear that, Chevvie my boy? If anything happens to her, you will rue the day."

Elena looked towards Cullen, pleading.

"I will take care of it." he said.

Elena shot him a piercing gaze. "If you take advantage of her..."

"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. You have my word."

Elena scuttled after her servant.

Evangeline tried to focus her eyes on a tapestry that hung in the corridor. "Young lady," she began, her words slurring together, "should you not be home at this hour?"

"Evie. It's me. Cullen. Would you permit me to escort you to your bedroom?"

"The things you say!" and she began to snicker.

He relinquished a half smile. He placed his arm underneath across and under her shoulder and began walking with her towards a curved stairwell.

"I would die for my family!" she exclaimed suddenly, startling him.

"I – what?"

"Don't let them take me into the Chantry, Elena. Nor do I wish to join the Templars. I can protect all of you now. With father gone, you will need such skill."

"I am not your sister, Evie."

She turned slowly towards him and upon realization, raised her brows. "Ah. So you aren't."

Cullen paused.

She took advantage of that hesitation. "Let's just…let's just sit for a minute. Alright? I need to grab my bearings." She looked up at the ceiling. "Where is the night sky?"

"You are at home. Inside." He sat down on a step beside her.

"Oh. Okay." She looked at Cullen and narrowed her eyes. "Are you the Cullen boy?"

He chuckled. "The one and the same."

"Well this has been a splendid evening, has it not?"

"It certainly was...memorable." said Cullen tactfully.

"I must admit that I am a trifle disappointed that after imbibing several consecutive glasses of alcohol, my memory has yet to fail. Perhaps the events of this night have scarred me for life." She cupped her chin in her hand and gazed despondently at the floor.

"That's rather fatalistic, don't you think? These things happen. It won't be long before your mother forgives you."

She blinked a few times in an attempt to clear her thoughts. "What did you say your last name was?"

"I – it's Rutherford."

She mouthed his name silently. "I had a bear called Rutherford. He had a straw hat and stunning cape. A goat ate him."

He chuckled. "I hope that's not an ill omen of things to come."

"What's coming?" Her mind had veered off topic yet again.

Cullen hesitated for a moment before replying. It was often difficult for him to reveal his thoughts, never mind the innermost ones. It gave the impression that he was sullen and disinterested. Even amidst his close circle of Templar friends, opening up and exposing vulnerabilities were traits he struggled to adopt. With this curious being in front of him, however, he was felt both alive and refreshed. As if he had awoken from a deep slumber.

He began, "You probably won't remember this tomorrow, but...we're to be transferred to the Circle Tower in Lake Calenhad."

She studied him with great interest. And this time, she didn't look away.

He went on. "I'm not sure how much you know about magic but when a mage apprentice is learned enough to officially join the Circle of Magi, they have to pass a test."

"The Harrowing?" she asked.

So she _was_ listening. "Yes. A Templar is duty-bound to slay the mage who fails."

"Have _you _ever killed anyone?"

"Not...yet. I can't say that I'm looking forward to the experience."

"Then why did you become a Templar, you foolish, _foolish_ creature?"

"I suppose I admire them. All they have to sacrifice all in the name of duty. They're a disciplined lot and necessary."

"A necessary _evil_." quipped Evangeline.

"I'm sorry?" said Cullen, slightly taken aback.

"For centuries, we have used the excuse of demonic possession to imprison mages. Okay, fine. So the Tevinter arseholes decided to jimmy their way into the Golden City. So they defiled the place. But can you provide validity? Can they provide proof of these actions? Can anyone?"

He took advantage of this rare moment of lucidity to press his point. "Andraste herself – "

"Andraste was a noble woman who met an ignoble death. She was manipulated by her own beliefs."

Cullen scrutinized Evangeline with a new sense of curiousity. Where normally blasphemy against the Maker and his Chosen would anger him, this somewhat logical examination piqued his interest.

"But...your family is devoted to the Chantry. How could _you _not believe?" he asked.

"I play pretend." she replied. "It is the coward's way, but letting my entire family down seems like the more unpleasant alternative."

Cullen furrowed his brows. "So I take it that you've never entertained the idea of joining the Templar order?"

"Hell no. I'd rather recite dirty limericks while juggling nugs at the Wintersend Ball. Now _there's_ an image." She started tracing the outline of the stonework masonry about her. "I may not know what I want, but I am certainly aware of what I don't." And then, as an afterthought, "But credit goes to you for finding your own path. Some of us have no clue as to our own. I can tell you that right now, I'm experiencing some serious I-found-my-path envy."

"Do you have no clues as to where your future lies?"

"No." She hung her head. "And it terrifies me. Sooner or later, one of my relatives will step forward and make that call on my behalf." She lapsed into silence for a minute. Such weighty matters taxed her intoxicated mind. "But…that's all in the future. And judging by my mother's furor, I won't have one."

"I'm sure she'll calm down in time. When I was eleven, my brother and I managed to completely obliterate this ornate, oak table my father had carved. He enjoyed woodworking in his spare time. He was positively _livid_." Cullen chortled in recollection. "We thought our short lives had finally come to a tragic end. We endured two days of loud berating and on the third, he took us fishing and seemed to have forgotten about the entire incident."

"How the devil did you obliterate a solid oak table?"

"We, uh...were pretending to slay a fell beast." He glanced aside in mild embarrassment.

Evangeline slapped her thigh and snorted in laughter. "It's just that you don't seem the..." her mind fumbled about, searching for the appropriate adjective.

"Imaginative type?" he offered helpfully. "No, no I don't."

She folded her arms across her chest and attempted to lean back against the stone steps. The action coupled with the alcohol in her bloodstream resulted in an awkward, wobbling motion. Cullen reached out and steadied her. "Thanks," she said. "Well. So are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Imaginative?"

"I...don't know. I suppose that's something for others to decide."

Evangeline wrinkled her nose in distaste. "_Pffft_. Pooh to the opinion of the masses. Unless you're an axe murderer at heart, I say be who you are and sod the lot of them. _I_ think you're more imaginative than you may give yourself credit for. Pure speculation of course, but you seem the type."

Cullen shook his head in confusion. "The type? Am I on comparative display here?"

She gave him a wide grin that caused his heart to beat faster. "You're an obvious introvert, my friend. And I suspect that you're talented at a great many things, but for whatever reason, you're afraid to let anyone in on your secrets." She patted him fondly on the shoulder. "I'm not judging you, by any means. That's okay if you need to keep some things tucked away. Solitude of that sort isn't loneliness. It's necessary. Once in while though, I hope you know it's alright to show-off."

The last person who spoke to him with such familiarity was his sister. And he had remained mostly silent during her insightful analyses. "I don't really have anyone to show-off to."

Evangeline frowned. "Well, that's a shame. Strapping young woman like yourself. Girls must be all a-swooning around you, I'm sure."

He was too nervous now to laugh. Could she possibly find him attractive? "I assure you, they seem to pay me little mind. Uh...what about yourself? Do you...uh...have anyone to show-off to?"

She looked away briefly; pondering the question. The attempt proved futile. "_What?_"

"Are you, well, _you know_...?"

"No, I most certainly _don't_ know. You'll have to spell this one out for me, I'm afraid."

"Are you _with_ anyone? Of the...um, opposite sex." Cullen fixed his gaze on the flickering flame of a wall sconce.

She snorted. "Of course not. Boys don't like me. I've liked my share fair...I mean, my fair share, but the feelings were never mutual. The last one I liked feigned interest in me just so he could get closer to Claudia. I broke a clay pitcher over his head once I found out. He required six stitches after. My mother had to personally meet with his to assure her that I wasn't a complete psychopath."

"What about Stroud?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"_Who?_"

"_Alec Stroud_," said Cullen slowly. "He seemed pretty keen."

"My good man, have you been at the wine again? I have no idea who you're talking about."

_Was she lying_, pondered Cullen? No, she didn't quite seem the sort. It was more likely that her alcoholic haze had muddied her memory. He found himself wondering if she would remember _him_ the following day.

Their conversation dwindled into an awkward silence. It seemed that she was content to break it first. "Tell me this, Cullen Rutherford of the Templar Order," she abruptly grinned. "Why on earth were you searching for me?"

He impetuously looked away. "I...you've had a taxing evening. I was...concerned."

"I can handle myself," she said in defiance.

"Not very well in social circles, however."

"Why, you impudent little boy." she said, smiling. "Fine. I'll give credit where credit is due. You're quite right."

One side of Cullen's mouth turned up in a half-smile. He fought the compulsion to lean forward. He fought the need to feel her lips on his own. _Not now_, his conscience would warn. _Don't begin something that would pain you to end. Think Templar. Think **discipline**._

Evangeline swayed forward. Cullen's sharpened reflexes caught her before her head clashed with stone. "I am...so very _tired_." she murmured.

"Permit me to lead you to your room. It might be time you slept the alcohol away."

No," she said obstinately. "Just let me..." with that, she rested her head against Cullen's shoulder and fell almost instantly into a deep sleep.

He slid and arm around her and didn't move for several hours.


	5. The Bear and the Dagger

**Author's note:**

A massive shout-out to **ExcidiumHawke** for the review. I tried to reply to your review, but I believe you have that function switched off. It did not allow me to say thank you. :( At any rate, it really means a great deal to me to know what people think of my ramblings. I am positively thrilled that you like it. I have never forayed into the realm of romance fanfics, save for one spur-of-the-moment chapter I wrote a while ago. And while I am quite aware that my character is very likely...definitely going down the Mary-Sue-esque path, and while I guiltily indulge in this, I will try to maintain some degree of realism.

All that aside, I have no flipping clue of how far this story will go. I have some main plot points lined up in my little pea-sized brain but I fly by the seat of my pants when it comes to filler material. Which brings me to ask those of you who are currently reading this fic – what do **you** want to see? I somewhat intend to take this all the way through to the end of the game, because there would be no way to examine people's motivations if we can't compare past actions to future ones. I don't have the patience nor the stamina to cover all the in-game events. Just major ones. What do you think?

Well. I must be off. It's my birthday today so I'm going to munch on some cake, eat a tuna sandwich and watch Doctor Who. One of these actions I will not do at the same time.

Geronimo!

P.S. When I picture a young Stroud, it doesn't hurt to imagine him very much like Christian Bale's character Laurie in Little Women. It reeeeally doesn't. ;)

* * *

><p>"Well, well. What do we have here?" came a voice, startling Cullen so violently that he leapt up. His knees banged against the table almost toppling it. He quickly grabbed its corners and brought it level to the ground.<p>

With raised eyebrows, Stroud attempted to peer over Cullen's shoulder. But the latter was taller and swiftly moved to conceal his activities.

"Relax, you sullen thing. I didn't see anything." Stroud walked towards an open bay window and sniffed the air. The scent of baking wafted in. Stroud sniffed again. Apple pie. Definitely apple. "So you're all dismissed for the day or just you?"

"We don't typically train while we're on business. This is more of a semi-official visit. No mage-hunting required." said Cullen, frowning before he quickly caught himself.

Stroud chuckled and strolled about the room. He walked up to a bookshelf and scanned the titles. "So you're not participating in the Tourney, then? Even after your Commander gave you permission?"

Cullen shrugged. "I don't really feel the need to."

"The need to fight or the need to prove yourself?"

"Both."

"Aren't you at least going to be a spectator?"

Cullen shrugged.

"Well, you're awful chatty today, aren't you?" noted Stroud. "You're going to talk my ear off at this rate."

Cullen studied Stroud as his brows furrowed. He didn't quite know the man apart from the fact that he was an acquaintance of Bastien's. All he knew was that Stroud was one of those people to whom all charismatic manipulations came naturally. And with this confidence came decisiveness. Once he'd set his eyes on something, he would home in on it with singular focus. A pity he had no intentions of joining the Templars. But Cullen didn't feel too badly about that.

Something about Stroud rubbed him the wrong way. And he couldn't, for the life of him, identify it.

As Cullen pondered, lost in his thoughts, Stroud lunged forward towards the table that the Templar was guarding. Cullen reacted too late. Stroud snatched two items off it and backtracked to put some distance between Cullen and himself. He held up one of the things in the air, examining it.

"A _bear?_" he said incredulously. He held up the other item. "And a straw hat!"

"Please give them back," he said as he closed his eyes – properly mortified.

In between sporadic spurts of laughter he pressed on. "Had I known you had such an interest in toys, I would have introduced you to my little sister. Please, _please_ tell me what these are for."

A red hue flushed Cullen's cheeks. "Why are you even here?"

Stroud, still mesmerized by the bear, his hat and this entire development, took a moment to reply. "Riordan said you own a lute. I need to borrow it."

"I – what do you need the lute for?"

"Amorous pursuits."

"Who are you...er...pursuing?"

"Young Miss Evangeline of House Trevelyan."

At this revelation, Cullen's heart grew heavy and his shoulders seemed to sag. This was it. This is what rubbed him the wrong way. "Ah."

"Is that disappointment in your voice, Ser Cullen?" questioned Stroud, a little puzzled.

"No." he said, his voice low. "The uh...the lute's in that chest over there."

Stroud handed back the bear and its hat. Cullen wordlessly walked back to the table.

"Did I say something wrong?" asked Stroud, genuinely concerned.

Without turning around he answered, "No. Everything's fine."

Stroud remained in one place for several moments and deliberated on whether to pursue the matter or to leave it be. He tucked the lute under his arm and walked out.

* * *

><p>Cullen sat down on the chaise lounge in the parlor with his hands clasped in front of him. Every now and then he would glance up at a painting and would daydream about what the people within were truly like. A rotund face gazed out from one of the portraits, with a bulbous nose, heavy jowls and a rather exquisite mustache. So exquisite that it didn't seem to fit the face. The man's shoulders and neck were encircled by a positively hideous set of feathered pauldrons. He speculated that the man was an Antivan merchant who was enamoured by exotic articles that he collected during his travels. He was meticulous in most things, and brushed those damnable feathers each night before going to bed.<p>

"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," said Elena as she rushed down the stairs.

Cullen rose up to greet her. "It's no trouble. We haven't really had much to do in Ostwick these past few days. It feels like I'm on holiday."

"Nonetheless, it was rude on my part. Especially after all you've done for my sister last night." She jerked her thumb behind her, gesturing. "Did you want me to fetch Evie?"

Cullen thought on this for several seconds. Despite the fact that nothing had happened between them save for what he believed to be a mutual attraction, seeing her and knowing that by the end of the night she would very likely be in Stroud's arms, seemed more intolerable than he could have imagined.

"No, it's not necessary. I did, however, come to give her this." He looked down at his feet, somewhat embarrassed and self-conscious. He handed the small bear over to Elena without meeting her gaze.

Elena scrutinized the plaything in an attempt to jog her memory. And then she smiled in realization. "Why, it's Ser Rutherford! Hat, cape and all! How on earth did you...?"

"She might have mentioned it last night."

"She did adore that bear. She'd put it next to her pillow when she went to bed. She was heartbroken when he got eaten by a g–"

" – a goat. I know." he chuckled.

Elena beamed at him. After Evangeline's series of antics that pushed her towards a drunken stupor yesterday, she had returned from the kitchens to find her sister propped up against the Templar's shoulders, snoring softly. He must have sat there for almost two hours. He had carried the girl carefully up the stairs as Elena guided him to her room. He then placed her in bed, accepted Elena's gratitude and bid them goodnight. Her respect for him skyrocketed and Elena wanted them married by the end of the week.

"You really should give this to her yourself," she suggested.

"I – it's not important. She probably won't even remember."

"You may be right, but I have a suspicion that she will be pleased to see you."

"Oh...?" he said, his interest suddenly piqued. "I uh...heard that she was going to be preoccupied this evening."

"She is," Elena admitted. "But there is a degree of...reluctance involved."

He gave her a hopeful look and then directed his gaze elsewhere as a worried expression stole over his face. "What do I do?"

Elena clasped her hands together in deep thought. "I may have a few pointers on that one," she smiled mischievously. She held up her left palm in mock fealty. "I hereby appoint myself to be your man-on-the-inside. And I solemnly pledge that I will endeavor tirelessly on your behalf. Now stop fretting and let's go for a walk."

* * *

><p>Claudia, her blonde locks held up by an intricately crafted butterfly pin, tip-toed her way into her youngest sister's bedroom. She carefully opened the door wider, wincing each time it creaked and groaned. She slipped through the threshold inside. She stealthily made her way to Evangeline's bed and almost knocked over a stack of books that her sister had kept close at hand. She squinted as she studied the tome at the top of the pile – <em>Love is a Battlefield: A detailed account of The Witch of the Wilds, her life, trials and power<em>. It was written by a fledgling author named Varric Tethras. Beneath the title lay a somewhat shabbily-drawn picture of a woman riding a dragon with a greatsword held high in the air. Claudia rolled her eyes and shook her head. Why their Evie chose to fill her head with such drivel, she could not fathom.

She knelt beside the bed. Her sister's eyes remained shut in deep slumber. Claudia briefly closed her own and cleared her throat as if readying herself to address an expectant audience. "There was a young lad named Cullen, who some would call quite sullen. But as soon as he saw my sister, he decided he wanted to kiss her, for in love the poor boy had fallen."

Evangeline's eyes opened and she looked blearily into her sister's face. Claudia was grinning. Why was Claudia grinning?

"Wassat…?" she said smacking her severely parched mouth together.

Claudia tilted her head to one side and looked in amusement at her sister. She brought the bear out and made him dance playfully from side to side in front of Evangeline. "Peekaboo! Someone's got a bear for you!"

Evangeline squinted stupidly at the bear. "Is that...Ser – "

"It's Ser Rutherford!"

"How...? I mean, he...the goat..."

"_Someone_ made it for you."

Evangeline grasped the bear and smoothed down his little blue cape. It wasn't an exact replica, but it came rather close to the original. "Who made it?"

"Guess."

Evangeline sat up in bed and grimaced. Her heart seemed to pound loudly and for no reason. Her mouth felt like sandpaper and her eyes were so very hot behind her eyelids.

"Go on – guess!" insisted Claudia.

"_Okay!_ Alright! Just keep your voice down," said an irritated Evangeline. "Only you lot would know about Ser Rutherford and his...unfortunate demise. So it's got to be either from you, Elena or Annette. With mother's current feelings towards me, we all know it could _never_ have come from her."

"Wrong on all three counts."

Evangeline furrowed her brows and threw her hands up in the air. "I'm stumped."

"Do you remember _nothing_ from last night?"

Evangeline shuddered in recollection of Bunty's disastrous exploits. She remembered her mother's face – a picture of crimson fury. She had stared Evangeline down, and was rendered speechless by all the damage her daughter and her infuriating dog had caused. So she hadn't quite forgotten _everything_. Evangeline's memory jogged back further and wandered into her conversation with Stroud on the balcony. Wasn't she supposed to be _somewhere_...?

Her eyes widened in realization. "What time is it?" she said as she grasped the edge of the mattress and swung her legs over onto the floor.

"Six in the evening," replied Claudia, puzzled.

"_You let me sleep in?_" exclaimed a panicked Evangeline.

"We had no choice – you refused to wake up!" Still kneeling on the floor, she looked on as her sister started to dress herself rapidly. Evangeline hopped around the room as she struggled to pull up her trousers. "Why in the Maker's name are you in such a hurry?"

"I have to meet someone. I said I would."

"Who?"

Evangeline froze for a moment before relenting. "Oh,_ fine_. If you really must know – Stroud wants to take me to a Rivaini encampment on Hallowed Hill."

Claudia's jaw dropped and her face broke into a wide smile. "_There's another one!_" she gasped with a degree of surprised reverence.

Evangeline pointed accusingly at Claudia. "You know, you being so shocked does absolutely nothing to boost my already-fractured self-confidence. And what in blazes do you mean by '_another one_'?"

"My baby sister is all grown up!"

Evangeline turned her eyes heavenwards and rushed out of the bedroom. Claudia, taken aback by her amazement at this new development, quickly pulled herself together and ran up to the doorway. With one hand on the door's frame, she shouted out to her sister. "_Wait!_ Don't you want to know who the bear's from?"

Her only reply was the sound of running footsteps on the stone stairwell.

* * *

><p>Just as she was about to leave their home, a commanding voice called out from behind her. "<em>Evangeline<em>."

She closed her eyes and turned around. She didn't know if it was a trick of the light from the braziers or the fact that her mother held herself erect with poise, but to Evangeline she seemed taller. Imposing. Terrifying.

"What happened yesterday – "

Evangeline looked properly contrite. " – I am so very sorry, mama. I never meant to – "

Her mother held up her index finger and Evangeline's jaw clamped shut.

Her mother went on. "What happened yesterday was a debacle of epic proportions. It was...rude and humiliating. I had a _very_ sleepless night. I kept thinking of all the things I would say to you, and I realized that my words would have been words of hate and not reproach. Which is why I had to restrain myself. I have calmed down sufficiently and have had a bit of an epiphany." She paused briefly, expecting Evangeline to reply. The girl didn't, so she continued. "You enjoy playing the man, yes? I mean, every time we attempt to nudge you in a more..._feminine_ direction, you seem to push back. Now I don't know if all your actions are completely voluntary or not, but we can no longer deny that it is in your nature."

"_And_," here, she sighed as if renouncing a rooted belief, "we cannot change anyone's nature without breaking them. You are my daughter, so as far towards the edge as you might push me, I do not wish to break you. And I do want you to be happy. I had a lengthy discussion with your uncle last night. We are united on this front – you lack direction. You're knowledgeable, yes, but you scarcely know what to do with that knowledge. Now I don't precisely know what you do during those long evenings where you wander off with that blasted dog, but I have a suspicion that you may be honing your sword-fighting skills. Don't think I haven't noticed the gashes and gouges on your bedroom furniture. Nor that beautiful Orlesian chandelier that you and Claudia replaced with a crude Ferelden one last year. I _know_ how you broke your arm, young lady, and it was most certainly _not_ from slipping on ice." She stopped momentarily and reined in her emotions. "At any rate, this is something you're quite adept at, or at the very least, desire to be. That is...not a talent that I should overlook. Your uncle, the Chantry scholar that he is, has frequent dealings with the Templars. We think it best that you join the Order."

Evangeline shook her head, _no_. This is _not_ what she wanted.

"Allow me to finish, if you will." she admonished. "You will spend time with him. You will journey with him, you will meet acquaintances within his circle and you will train with them. But you will not do so as a Templar. After a period of a few years, if you feel that you no longer wish to follow that path, you may return here to find your own. _Now_. Are those terms acceptable?"

Evangeline looked to the floor, contemplating this abrupt revelation. "I...will I have to take Lyrium?"

"Don't be foolish. No child of mine will be given Lyrium unless it is of their own volition. Now, if you _become_ a Templar, Lyrium will be an unfortunate necessity. But it is a worthy sacrifice."

"I'm sixteen...I'm uh...too old to join them. They only accept younger children."

Her mother eyed her dryly. "For all your studies in the historical field, you exhibit an alarming paucity when it comes to conventional knowledge. They will accept most if their skills, dedication and loyalty are proven genuine."

"I would be grateful if you would give me some time to think on this," petitioned Evangeline meekly.

Her mother nodded slowly. "I would not expect you to rush headlong into it. But keep this in mind while you ponder, that is – _by far_ – the most favourable option that is on the table."

"Yes, mother." said Evangeline as she walked out and into the night.

* * *

><p>Shutting the gate behind her, Evangeline gratefully inhaled the crisp evening air. In an effort to clear her head of worrying thoughts concerning her future, she looked about for Stroud. He sat on a fence by an old oak tree, kicking his dangling legs in front of him. On spotting Evangeline, he issued a mock salute that caused her mouth to twitch into a smile. She was forgetting already.<p>

He jumped down from the fence and approached her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said and then on seeing an instrument that he had in his hand, "what's that?"

"That, my good woman, is a lute."

"I mean, I _know_ it's a lute. But what do you intend to do with it?"

He stared at her for a moment. "I do whatever any lute-strummer does with a lute. Use it as a paddle, a soup spoon, you know."

"Now you're making fun of me."

He feigned surprise. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just...uh...nervous."

"Don't be," he took her hand in his and they strolled towards their destination.

* * *

><p>By the time they reached the top of Hallowed Hill, the encampment was deep in the throes of merry-making. The music beckoned to her, and she found her steps quickening. She unclasped her hand from Stroud's and jogged forward. He let her run ahead of him and smiled. He walked contentedly behind her, the lute tucked under one arm and the other hand thrust deep into his pockets.<p>

She watched them from the edge of the campsite, reluctant to make her presence known. Most of the group sat cross-legged or kneeled beside the fire. Some strummed their instruments while others shook their tambourines in rhythm. A few couples danced together, the flickering light of the fire seemed to both illuminate and animate them. A man gently twirled his partner around and in one graceful moment she stooped down to kiss a baby in an elder's lap before returning to the man's arms. And the music...it was unlike anything she had heard before. It was layered, with many a texture, rich and all too intoxicating. The woman who sang – no, that was too simple a word. It was some form of enchantment. It had to be. Her words – in this foreign tongue – encompassed love, regret and melancholy.

Evangeline laughed in delight and turned to Stroud.

"I have read Beskorus of Vyrantium's journal and he describes the food, wine and revelry of the Allsmet, but not once does he appreciate their music." she said.

He pointed to an older woman who had her eyes closed, her head swaying in time to the music, "See her there? She's their Seer. Their leader. There are precious few of them outside Rivain."

Evangeline was not surprised to hear it. Rivain's society was a matriarchal one and they revered their pantheist ancestors who were predominantly female. The Chantry's influence never quite took root with these Northerners, and she was glad of it.

"What's a Seer?" she asked.

"They're...well, to put it bluntly, they're hedge mages. They allow themselves to be possessed by spirits in order for the spirit to impart its knowledge to them."

"Isn't that...dangerous?"

"It can be. But somehow there are fewer incidents of demonic consequences than I hear of in oh, say, the Circle Tower. Perhaps our Chantry and Templars could learn from them."

The older woman opened her eyes and nodded in their direction. They approached her and she brought two fingers to her head and then to her heart in greeting. Stroud mirrored the gesture. They sat down beside her.

"You brought a friend?" she said, her accent curiously alluring.

He nodded. "Alice, Evangeline. Evangeline, Alice."

"Of course you know that is not my real name, but it helps me meld with society's niceties." Alice's wizened face scrutinized Evangeline's. "What a curious countenance you have." she remarked. "Is it a coincidence...or deliberate, I wonder."

"I'm sorry?"

Alice waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh don't mind me. The ramblings of an old crone."

"Your music is...captivating," complimented Evangeline. "What is she singing about?"

"The loss of innocence. It forces people to change and harden. You have to know what to keep and what to let go."

"Is there a tale behind it?"

"Curious one, isn't she?" smiled Alice as she glanced at Stroud. "Yes, girl, there is _always_ a tale. Far more complex than the song tells of it, but it is a good one nonetheless. She is singing of a young Elven warrior mage during the ancient times. Long before the destruction of the Elvhenan and before the elves had their immortality stripped from them by the Shemlen. The boy was virtuous and pure of heart, and he was a mage to be reckoned with. When he was older – not too much older than the pair of you, his consciousness slipped into the Fade as he dreamed. There, he met a young spirit of Wisdom. Who also happened to possess the form of a beautiful woman. Tragedies almost singularly begin with the impetuousness of youth_. Pfeh_. Young people."

Alice paused to take a sip of wine from a chalice before she went on. "Naturally, the lad fell in love and he took to sleeping frequently to meet her in dreams and spent as much time as possible with her. Sleeping draughts were no longer enough. He would have gladly taken his own life simply to be with her forever, but she was afraid that his essence might scatter in the Fade as it did with many of the deceased. One day, he discovered magic that would allow him to slumber for long periods of time without need for food or water. He meticulously performed the ritual, was successful, and slept for an entire century. He was happier there with her than he ever could have been on this earth. But happiness comes with a price. Something fractured his slumber and he opened his eyes. He woke to a world where Elves were being slaughtered and corralled – all in the name of religion. And he had done nothing to stop it. He discovered that a few of his own – immortals like him – had survived. Guilt-ridden and desperate to protect what was left of his kind, he sealed them off from this world."

"And the spirit that he had fallen in love with?" questioned Stroud.

"Every time he looked at her, she reminded him of the death of his people. He knew that it was of his own volition that he chose to be with her in the Fade and he knew that even had he been awake and present; he may not have been able to prevent such genocide. But now she reminded him of great regret and it pained him to be with her. His visits grew less frequent until he eventually stopped seeing her altogether. He wanted to die, but was tied to this mortal life, and he chose it as penance for his selfishness. For when the time comes, he is the only one who can bring the Elvhenan back."

"He sealed his people off?" asked Evangeline. "That sounds remarkably similar to Falon'Din. The trickster god. Some people call him the Dread Wolf."

"So they do. It could be one of many interpretations." conceded Alice.

"_Right._" began Stroud, reaching for the lute. "Enough melancholy and more merriment."

He began to strum along to the music. As he sang, he gazed directly at Evangeline. She coloured as he stared at her but could not look away. She couldn't interpret the words, but it was quite obvious that they were meant for her. A light breeze rustled his hair playfully and she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Everything about this evening bewitched her.

After the song was over, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. "Balter with me." he said.

Evangeline shook her head, confused. "I'm sorry – _what?_"

"I'm not that good of a dancer. Rather artless, in fact. Would you believe that there is actually a term for my blundering about?"

She laughed and acquiesced. He put an arm around her waist and hers on his shoulder. They moved in time to the music.

"You balter rather splendidly, Alec." she commented.

"Or perhaps you are a balterer too." he teased. "One balterer isn't capable of judging another balterer. Or is it _balterist_...?"

She chuckled.

"Is your family content to have you run off into the wild blue yonder like this? Especially after what happened yesterday." he asked.

"Ostwick is a decent town. And running off into blue yonders has become somewhat customary. As for what happened yesterday...the situation is being resolved. I think."

"Where is your Qunari friend today? No training?" he asked.

"He is in Kirkwall. He should return within the week. You spoke with him?"

"A little. He was quite proud of you that day. I think that let his guard down, and after you headed home he told me little bit about you. So he's been teaching _and_ training you for five years? Are you never going to tell your family of your exploits?"

She looked away, not too comfortable to discuss the topic. He caught on quickly and said with a smile, "Okay, okay. Let's talk about something else. Let's see...if I recall correctly, I was supposed to tell you how I acquired that dagger, no?"

"Yes you were."

"It was my grandmother's actually. She was Rivaini. She married a Chevalier from Val Royeaux and they settled there. They then had my father who followed in the footsteps of his own."

"You gave me a _family heirloom_?" she exclaimed, almost tripping over her own feet as they danced.

"It belongs in the hands of skilled fighter. One better than I. _And_...I suppose that I didn't want you to despise me forever."

"But..."

"I _want_ you to have it."

A woman with a baby got up and started dancing with the toddler as the music grew livelier.

"So, if you're grandmother was Rivaini, you can understand what they're singing...?"

"Not everything. There are different dialects. Dairsmuid vernacular is quite simple to pick up if you're familiar with some of the root words. What they speak in Llomerryn is slightly harder. There are masculine and feminine articles. But...you're talking to an amateur. If you want to get into semantics, I know a few lexicologists who might be able to indulge you."

She looked at him in wonder. "You seem to know so much. Tell me this, that song you were singing earlier though, do you know what it meant?"

He glanced away and gave a wan smile. "Uh...I might."

Evangeline looked at him expectantly. "And...?"

"It's something I would rather _do_, instead of tell you."

"Oh..." she began, as he brought a hand up to her cheek and stroked it. She closed her eyes at the touch. Her heart thudded in her chest. She was certain the entire world could hear it.

"You are so unlike anyone I've ever met. You inspire me. All the colours...everything seems more vivid with you here. To actually go back to what it was before is unthinkable. I want to know you, and I want you to know me."

"Okay," she said, for lack of better response. She finally opened her eyes allowed herself to get lost in his own.

"Evie girl, I hope you wouldn't mind terribly if I kissed you right now...?"

"Okay."

They stopped dancing as he leaned in, clasped his hands tenderly behind her head and pressed his lips against her mouth. The contact was neither rough nor gentle. A restrained longing lay behind it. Her entire body came alive and she allowed emotion to guide her hands up against the back of his neck and through his dark hair.

They would not have stopped to breathe had it not been for the uproarious clapping and whistling from their small audience. They parted, both abashed, and feigned tremendous interest in the ground. As they returned to their spot beside the fire amidst the dwindling applause, some of the men rose and clapped Stroud on the back. She sat down with his arm around her, and as he tried to teach her some Rivaini songs, he would occasionally steal a kiss in between.

* * *

><p>This was the second time he found himself in the Trevelyans' parlour and as Elena ran down the stairs, she called out to him. "Cullen, I can't find her anywhere. She did get home rather late last night. I know that for a fact. She often climbs the trellis to her window and thinks that none of us know. There's soil in her bedroom."<p>

"That's okay. Maybe I'll come back another time."

Frowning, Elena opened the front door for him. Movement in the courtyard caught both their attention. Evangeline and Stroud stood beneath a copse of birch trees several yards away. She appeared to give him something. He accepted and said some things to her that neither Cullen nor Elena could discern. He then kissed her for what seemed like an eternity. At least, it appeared that way to Cullen.

"Oh, Cullen..." said Elena. She glanced at him. He looked crestfallen. "I..."

"I suppose," he said finally, "he is the better man."

"I am so, _so_ sorry,"

"As am I." He walked in the opposite direction and left.


	6. Something New

**Author's note:**

**ExcidiumHawke** and **Gil Shalos1** – many thanks to you both for taking the time to review. Like I've said before, it means a lot. And **Gil Shalos1**, I agree completely with what you've said in your profile. Reviews are the only payment we receive for our efforts, and it truly does spur our imagination and give us the boost we need to proceed.

If any of you reading this can spare the time, please, _please_ check out the stories that both these authors have written.

There is one particular piece that **Gil Shalos1** has written in the Dragon Age-verse called Side by Side about unrequited love (and yes, fellow Cullennites, rest-assured that he is in the story and plays a prominent role) that will be well worth your time.

That's it from me for now.

* * *

><p>Evangeline had spent most of the day with Stroud. They visited the clifftop where she had first seen Asogen and ate their lunch with their feet dangling off the edge. She hadn't told him about the circumstances of their meeting; she needed to keep that memory for herself. They talked about a great many things. Or at least, Stroud did. And she was content to listen. He was well-traveled and well-versed in the customs of other nations. Like her, he had a voracious appetite for the foreign and exotic. And like her, he was daring and prone to sudden fits of impetuousness. As Asogen had been for her in the past, Stroud had entered her life as this glorious well of knowledge. He was a difficult person to resist falling in love with.<p>

He had insisted on competing in the Grand Tourney much to the delight of his Chevalier father and consternation of his mother. But that was about as far ahead as he cared to plan. Like many parents, his own had – what he believed to be banal – dreams for him, but he was headstrong and would have none of it. That was a fate suited for, in his exact words: humdrum, narrow-minded buffoons whose ideal existence was akin to being rooted in one place until death and decay took them. Well, he was a little on edge that day and perhaps his language was a tad...harsh. He was a force of nature that had little room for mundane musings and would not suffer the company of those who did. Once he reached the age of seventeen, he gave himself completely and utterly to this nomadic lifestyle.

In the beginning, Stroud journeyed to Rivain and remained there for several months. His parents refused to fund his exploits so he joined a crew of fishermen in order to earn some coin. The experience was liberating. He was answerable to no one save himself. He wandered paths that others neglected. Participated in the drunken revelry that was the Allsmet. And come the end of the day, he would raise a glass of strong ale as he crooned along to their tavern songs. He even managed to find himself betrothed to some farmer's daughter from Llomeryn by accident. He traveled to Llomeryn and offered an explanation and apology to the farmer. But this yielded no results, and in fact, it had managed to make the situation worse. The farmer – already quite inebriated – came at him with a rake, accusing him of defiling his daughter's purity and other such nonsense. Stroud had no choice but to clock the man out cold. He fled back his little shack and decided that this was the push he needed to venture somewhere else.

"So where did you go next?" asked Evangeline.

Stroud leaned back on one elbow and bit into an apple. "Ferelden, actually. Mother despised the place. Which meant it had to be interesting. Headed to Redcliffe and worked in their Chantry for a spell. Nothing priestly or anything. Swept the floors, dusted the shelves. Nothing too exciting there save for a particularly saucy redhead in a tavern."

Evangeline looked at him sharply.

"But you, my dear," he said, as he raised himself up to kiss her, "are far more pleasing to look at."

"Oh, go soak your head." she said smiling despite herself. "Did you always travel alone?"

"Not always. Some roads were a little too dangerous to wander alone. I hitched rides with merchants, farmers. Even a traveling circus once."

"_Really?_"

"Cross my heart. There was," he started to chuckle as he recalled a fond memory, "...there was this one chap who claimed to have two heads. Of course the second one was nothing but a very realistic prosthetic attachment. We stopped briefly in Lothering to entertain some children. And there were these nugs that one of the other performers had. Somehow one of them had squirmed their way into this false head. So, completely oblivious to it, this chap puts his 'head' on and not five minutes into his little routine, it starts to move. Now the children don't think it's strange because they think it's his real head. But Barnaby..." Stroud doubled over trying to keep from laughing, "...Barnaby is _terrified_. He turns slowly to look at this head and it begins to rock back and forth – like it's possessed. He starts to scream: _Maferath's balls! Maferath's balls!_ And then he tears the head off his shoulder and it plonks down in front of all the children."

Evangeline's face lit up as she succumbed to his addictive laughter.

She leaned back down onto the grass and looked up at passing clouds. "It sounds...incredible. Everything you've done, everything you've seen."

Stroud sat up suddenly and came close up against her. Before Evangeline realized what was happening, he had climbed on top of her and stared down at her intently.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"We could do it too, you know. Run away together. It would be so much better than seeing all of it alone."

"I have obligations. This thing with my uncle – "

"So are you going to do it then? Become a pseudo-Templar?"

"I think so. Yes. I suppose I ought to give it a shot. And I _will_ get to travel."

He brought his head closer to hers and pressed his forehead against her own. She closed her eyes and breathed in the nearness of him.

"I could come with you. Go wherever you go."

Evangeline chuckled. "_You?_ You wouldn't be able to stay still in one place for very long. I'll give you a week before you'd want to cast off moorings."

"I'm not as flighty as all that. Besides, you running off to get a taste of Templar life – where would that leave us?"

"Oh, so there's an _**us**_ now, is there?"

He bent lower and lightly brushed his lips against hers. "There is most definitely an _**us**_."

Stroud started to kiss her, slowly at first and then, as their bodies responded to one another, he found it far too challenging to stop. His kisses grew more fervent and his lips traced the paths of her chin down to the curve of her neck. She sighed softly with the intensity of it all but brought her hands up against him.

"We can't," she whispered with her eyes still shut, not even sure if she meant what she said.

"I know." But he didn't stop kissing her.

"We can't. Not here."

"Where then?" his mouth ventured lower.

"_Please_. I'm not ready yet."

He pulled back and hung his head. "I'm sorry, Evie. I just got caught up in...you."

She grinned. "I know. I did too. In you, I mean. Not me."

They laughed together. He rolled off of her and gazed out into the sea before them. "I've made up my mind, though."

"About...?" she said as she sat up and smoothed down her crinkled shirt.

"I'll go with you. Wherever you go. You can go do whatever it is that Templars do and I'll find a job in the meantime. It's really not that difficult."

"You can't give it up for me!" she exclaimed.

"Give _what_ up? My inheritance? The Chevalier my father wanted me to be? I gave that up three years ago, Evie girl. My future is a blank canvas. I can do whatever I want. And your protests will fall on deaf ears unless you tell me, right here and now, that you don't care for me."

How could she _not_ feel anything? He had changed so much. He smoothed her edges. Made her explore a softer side that she had no idea she possessed. Evangeline remained silent and smiled.

He smirked. "I thought so. Now come on," he pulled her to her feet, "let's get you home before your family starts to think I'm making a dishonest woman out of you."

* * *

><p>As she walked through the gate and into the courtyard, she felt an apprehension dissolve within her. Staying with her uncle and learning from the Templars didn't seem as troubling now that Stroud had decided to come with her. She would miss her sisters terribly, especially her Elena, but him being near at hand would help fill part of that void at the very least. As to whether she would tell her mother of Stroud's decision – she wasn't certain, but left the choice for another time.<p>

She climbed up the steps to the large oak door and pushed it open. It was abnormally dark inside. None of the oil lamps were lit and the silence she stepped into was eerie. She walked through the parlor and into the sitting room. In the soft moonlight that streamed through a large window, she saw two figures huddled against the wall; almost leaning into it.

"What's going on here?" Evangeline asked, her voice shattering the quiet.

One figure leapt back as the second squealed. It was Annette and Claudia.

"You scared me half to death!" Annette hissed harshly.

"Why are we whispering? And for pity's sake, why have you turned out all the lights?"

"Keep your voice down," urged Claudia. She reached out, grasped her sister's arm and yanked her closer. She had an empty glass held up against the wall. "Listen!"

Evangeline placed her ear at the one end. "What am I listening for?"

"Elena's in there! With Elliot!"

"That scrawny little thing from Kirkwall?" asked Evangeline, scrunching her eyebrows together.

"He's not scrawny, and he's taller than you!" said Annette. "Mind your manners. And where have you been gone all day?"

Evangeline stuck her tongue out at Annette and resumed listening.

"We think he's about to propose – he was in there for a solid _hour_ with mother earlier." explained Claudia.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," began Annette's bothersome rationale. "He could be..."

"A man does not meet with someone's mother in private, and then with his beau to ask her to go out for tea and cake," corrected Claudia. "Trust me. I know."

"Just how many proposals have you had, Claudia?" interrogated a shocked Annette.

"Never you mind."

"How many? I demand to know!" persisted her eldest sister.

"Will the both of you please..._shut up!_" exclaimed Evangeline in a sharp whisper. "I can't hear a blasted thing!"

Evangeline was quite right. Try as she might, her strained hearing was met with a silence that she deemed all too bleak. Either the imbecile was down on one knee, begging for Elena's hand in marriage or she had utterly rejected him. Evangeline fervently hoped that it was the latter. Surely her Elena knew better than to marry a bookkeeper's son from Kirkwall. What prospects did he have? Other than to bookkeep...? What a dreary existence. And Kirkwall! The city was a grim place, and with the newly-settled Qunari Arishok there, it had become a storm waiting to break.

"I'm going in." said Evangeline. Firmly. Decisively.

"Evangeline," began Annette in the sternest voice she could muster, "you have absolutely no right to go – "

"Too late." she said, looking at her sister darkly, as she stormed into the study, nostrils all a-flare.

* * *

><p>She flung the door open, her sights set firmly on the red-headed simpleton who was holding her beloved Elena's hands in his own.<p>

"Step away from her, _basra Vashedan_. Your presence here disrupts _asit tal-eb_." stated Evangeline melodramatically as she stalked towards them. She purposefully stepped in between this interloper and her Elena.

"Evie!" cried Elena in surprise.

Evangeline stood up to the taller individual, his face inches away from hers. "What designs do you have on my sister's future? What deceptions?"

"I...uh...nothing!" cried the stupefied boy.

"_Coward!_"

"Evie!"

"If you choose to wed my sister, then you will win her favour through physical contest. I hereby challenge you to a duel with all intact laws of judicial combat." Evangeline stared unflinchingly at the terrified boy. He gazed back at her with an emotion tempered with great trepidation and alarm. He took a step back. But she closed in on him with dogged determination. Within the span of a few seconds, he was up against the door of the study and Evangeline's darkened countenance. There was no way out.

"Evangeline!" repeated Elena as she placed a firm hand on her sister's shoulder. "Leave the boy be! I said yes!"

Evangeline continued to stare him down.

"I said _yes_!"

Evangeline looked to one side. Had her hearing suddenly become impaired?

"What...?" she said, with considerable pain in her eyes as she turned towards Elena.

"I have accepted his proposal!"

She gestured at the boy, in incredulity. "This..._thing_? He..._bookkeeps_! That's all he'll ever do! He will not be able to give you the life you deserve. You'll be stuck in Kirkwall forever."

All of a sudden, the study door was flung open, almost knocking Elliot over. He leapt to one side, not too dissimilar to a frightened rabbit.

"What is going on here?" exclaimed her mother's voice. She took one look around the room before her glower settled on Evangeline. Her mother closed her eyes and sighed in weariness as she raised her hand to her forehead. "Oh, Evangeline."

Elena, her eyes stinging with tears, fled the room. They could hear her footsteps clattering across the hallway as she made her way to anywhere-but-here.

"Elliot," said Evangeline's mother, "perhaps it would be best if you went home and returned tomorrow."

"Lady Trevelyan, Elena – " he protested.

"It's alright. If she has agreed to your offer, I can do nothing but wish you both tremendous – "

"Mother!" wailed Evangeline.

She shoved a threatening index finger in Evangeline's direction. It pinned the girl in place and had shut her mouth. "Elliot. Do me a favour and go home. I'll deal with this one."

Evangeline hung her head as she heard the boy walk out. Her mother shut the door to the study and approached her daughter.

To her amazement, she felt the soft hand of her mother's palm hold her cheek. "Evie. My sweet, silly, utterly ridiculous child." Evangeline looked up to see her mother's face – lined with worry, love and a sadness she couldn't comprehend. "Before your dear father died, he told me that you were going to be a handful. He'd realized as much when he first placed a sword in your hands. You didn't take well to instruction. But I suppose that he, in his wisdom, had found a way handle you." She smiled as she remembered. "He said that he told you what a good sword-fighter would have done to handle their blade, and you had huffed in his face. So then he left you to your own devices. He watched you from afar, trusting you to make the correct choice...and, you know what? You did."

Evangeline said nothing.

"I know how much you care for your sister. And I know how much she cares for you. She loves Elliot. She _truly_, truly does. The boy might not be exactly what you had in mind, but he does love your sister tremendously. I would not have approved of the betrothal had I believed otherwise. So...all I can do is advise you to apologize to your sister and have faith in her choices. Maker knows, she has done so for you on numerous occasions. But, if you choose not to do so, I will not hold you accountable. You will have to answer to your own conscience."

And in a sudden gesture that melted her heart, Evangeline flung her arms tightly round her mother and put her head on her breast. She tried to keep from crying. The last time her child had held her like this...she could not even recall it.

"You don't play fair, mama." murmured Evangeline.

Her mother put a gentle hand around Evangeline's head, held her close and breathed in deeply – savoring the rare moment.

They remained that way, mother and child, for several minutes. Until finally, Evangeline broke free and went to find her sister.

* * *

><p>She walked into Elena's room with her head hung low, much like Bunty would have, had he wrecked another priceless heirloom or dug up all the newly-planted bulbs in the courtyard.<p>

Elena sat on a seat by the bay window that overlooked Ostwick's coast. She held a silk cushion tightly to her chest. A kind breeze sifted through Elena's satin golden hair. She was an angel, thought Evangeline to herself. Her angel. And now she was going to be someone else's.

She meekly sat across from her sister and tried to catch her eye. But Elena looked away, into moon-reflected waters.

"I don't want to lose you," began Evangeline. "I guess that, ultimately, I don't really want anything to change."

"Everything changes." remarked Elena.

"I _know_ that. And yet, I can't seem to find it in myself to accept it."

Elena looked into her little sister's eyes. "But _you've_ changed."

"How do you mean?"

"With Stroud. He's changed you. You smile when you think no one's looking. You get this dopey-looking grin and act all starry-eyed when you think of him."

At the mention of his name, Evangeline's face broke into a wide smile. "Okay. You're right. Is that how you feel about Elliot?"

Elena inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Not...really. It isn't exactly a romance for the ages – like your tales would have you believe. Elliot didn't sweep me off my feet quite like your young man did. But he's kind and courageous, in his own quiet way. His character has an inner strength that not many catch on to. Girls have dismissed him before – because of it. But he is a beautiful person and once he allows you to see it, then it becomes magical. He really is quite the romantic. And the man is loyal to a fault."

"But don't his..._prospects_ bore you?"

"Why? Because he isn't as well-traveled as your Alec?"

"I...didn't say that," said a hesitant Evangeline, "I just want you to see the world."

Elena smiled knowingly. "I don't need to see the world. I'm content with what has been offered me."

Evangeline leaned in closer to her sister. "How much _do_ you love him?"

"Very much."

Evangeline sighed in weary resignation. "Okay. If you love him so, then I shall learn to as well."

Elena smiled affectionately at her sister. "Oh, I almost forgot," she said as she jumped off her seat and rushed to her desk. She opened her drawer and pulled something out. Walking back to her sister, she placed the item into her open palm.

A slight smile played across Evangeline's lips as she examined the small, stuffed bear in her hands. "I _knew_ you made it."

"I had nothing to do with it."

Evangeline looked up at her quizzically.

"It was your Cullen." explained Elena. She brushed a loose wisp of black hair from her little sister's forehead. "A lot of things burn brightly in this world, Evie girl. But their time is fleeting and sometimes...as they burn, they scorch things around them. But as we stare, transfixed at their light, we miss things that possess more strength and more meaning. That night – when you were already quite in the throes of a drunken stupor; I had to leave you alone because the kitchen demanded my immediate attention. Cullen was there. I told him to watch over you. You refused to be escorted to your bedroom, so he sat with you in the stairwell until you feel asleep. And even then, he remained with you there until I returned. I came back two hours later...and I saw him holding you, with your head against his shoulder fast asleep. He carried you up to your bed and said his goodbyes."

Evangeline leaned back into a cushion. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You needed to know. They were the actions of a good person...and too often do such actions slip by unnoticed."


	7. In Flux

**Author's note:**

A warning to the few poor souls following this story: this is a long 'un.

I have continued to toy with the idea that the Inquisitor sporadically meets Cullen at different points in her life. No, not during intersecting and disjointed timelines – that's River and the Doctor. Forgive me. I am on my third glass of wine. Okay! So back on topic. As mentioned before, this story has been indulging my guilty pleasures so there are instances during which I am unsure about how effectively I'm pulling all of this off. Without a review, it's a little hard to tell. But I will try my bestest.

I want the Inquisitor to see Cullen at his weakest. Which is...right after the events at the Mage's Circle.

I also want to address Asogen's role in the story. I have come to love the chap, and I can't help but elaborate on his life and motivations. So yeah, there's a bit more on him. He is my version of the not-Qunari Qunari. Not at the extreme end of the spectrum as Iron Bull, but somewhere along that tangent.

Okay. Stopping now. Because…wine. And I like math. Yes. Okay. Leaving now. Muffins! Let's all celebrate hand-waviness!

This is gonna be one helluva hangover tomorrow, isn't it...

* * *

><p><strong>In Flux<br>**

**Kirkwall**

**3 Days Later**

The smell of rotting food and various forms of...refuse permeated his senses. He swatted the flies in his path to one side as walked up the steps of the stark, stone Qunari compound. Well, if they wanted to get technical about it, this land belonged to Viscount Dumar, who had preemptively gifted it to the Qunari when they were ship-wrecked here several years ago.

Some of Kirkwall's inhabitants – especially those who were ardent Chantry-supporters feared the ramifications of this gesture. They knew of Par Vollen and of the Qun. Fear, if not assuaged, often elicited resentment and eventually hate. And it would all go downhill from there. The Qunari were not a barbaric race, who butchered people for sport as the Chantry would have people believe, but they weren't exactly tolerant either. What it ultimately came down to was the tenets of the Qun. Any deviations from its doctrine, any heresy from within or without, would not be condoned and its enemies would be dispensed with as efficiently as possible.

Then there were others – predominantly Elven slaves – who saw the Arishok's arrival as a blessing and means of escape. Potential converts had become quite aware that if they proved their worth and accepted the Qun's teachings as law, this would sever ties to past-beliefs that had bound their freedom. And in this indirect manner, the Chantry's hold on Kirkwall was strained again.

Whichever way Asogen looked at it, the Arishok – and his people, had embroiled themselves in a situation that would resolve itself only through violence. They were sitting atop a giant powder keg of volatile emotional ramifications; poverty, greed, exploitation, megalomania and all that remained was the spark of religious fanaticism to set it off. Oh, what a joy it was to be back in Kirkwall.

Asogen stopped before the gate, where more armed Qunari guards crossed threatening spears in front of him, preventing him from passing.

They bowed in apology, "Beresaad," they acknowledged, "The Arishok is in...talks."

Asogen nodded and waited patiently outside. He always thought it amusing how his fellow soldiers referred to him as _Beresaad_. Granted, technically he had begun as such and was one aspect of its whole, but he was _Ben-Hassrath_ now, and it was a secret he had to keep from many. Especially those of lower rank.

He paced for a few minutes, gazing up at the docks and the Waking Sea occasionally, when this peaceful reverie was shattered by a searing sound, the clank of metal hitting stone, followed by two thuds. Asogen shut his eyes slowly. He knew what it was, of course. There were instances where he had wrought the noise himself. But it hadn't made it any easier to hear.

The guards raised their spears. "The Arishok will see you now."

* * *

><p>The raw power of the Arishok always caught him off guard. Uncharacteristically wary, his eyes were drawn to the Qunari. Red war-paint was streaked across his shoulders and chest – the markings were both practical and symbolic. They were an amalgam of herbs; meant to heal and provide resistance to specific poisons as they were absorbed through the epidermis. They were also adorned to instill fear in his adversaries; the crimson hue embodied strength and courage. The blood of others nor his own would not deter him from his purpose. It was a necessary constant. But there was also a darker stain – blotchy and fresh. Spots of it freckled the Arishok's face before he wiped it off with a rag.<p>

Asogen turned to see Qunari guard carry off a body to dispense of it. The corpse was headless.

Asogen cast the sight out of mind and kneeled before his leader.

The Arishok gestured for him to rise. "_Shanedan_, Asogen. I once again bid you welcome to this..._this place_. The people of this city – they disgust me. I have yet to find one who is selfless and honourable."

"It would be wise, however, not to antagonize them." said Asogen.

The Arishok, especially _this_ Arishok, did not take kindly to be disagreed with. But he maintained respect for Asogen. The two had served alongside one another in many battles, even before he ascended to assume the role of one third of the Qunari Triumvirate. He was well aware of Asogen's loyalty and quiet determination. His words were one of the few he would consider.

"I should point out, old friend, that he did antagonize me first."

"Nevertheless, I feel that the situation here is a delicate one. Violence could easily initiate a war that we did not come here to cause."

The Arishok nodded. "There is truth in what you say. But would you not agree that this cesspit of scum and villainy is deserving of cleansing?"

"Who was he?" asked Asogen, nodding in the direction of the body that had recently been hauled off.

"Nobody of consequence."

"If that man has ties to the Chantry, his death would precipitate our circumstances," warned Asogen.

"He is a brigand. A mercenary. Nothing more. Not even a native of Kirkwall. He had information that he refused to part with. Which brings me to why you were summoned here. You have spent five years in Ostwick. It was rumoured that she had a lover there. Has she returned to him?"

"No. He is a fisherman now. And it would appear that he knows nothing of the tome."

"Under...duress; is there a possibility that he would reveal any information?"

Asogen reflected on this. Torture was never a reliable source of information; it showed ineptitude and cowardice. Any tormented being would confess to a myriad of absurd accusations should he be pushed far enough. "It would gain us nothing and would be a waste of resources." he said, finally.

"What would you advise? We have wasted far too much in pursuit of this...thief. But the stolen tome is far too valuable to leave in her hands. She thinks herself a queen among pirates now. She has at her command an equally imbecilic yet loyal crew. Which seas they sail and tarnish, however, I do not yet know."

"We should leave some of our men here – Beresaad that you trust, who will inform you should any trace of her emerge. And we should leave Kirkwall. Our ship is rebuilt and we have suffered no losses here. We should count ourselves fortunate and walk away."

The Arishok leaned forward, rested his elbow on one knee, his strong jaw in his hand. He contemplated Aosgen's words. "This city of filth…it deserves cleansing. And I am not yet ready to give up the hunt for her."

"Are there no – more _engaging_ – matters in Par Vollen that deserve your attention?"

"The Tome of Koslun is a precious property of the Qun. It is not a simple artifact – it is _our_ scripture. She sullies its meaning merely by handling it."

"With respect, Arishok," at this, Asogen bowed his head in reverence, "we are ill-equipped to battle an entire city. And we should consider that Kirkwall may be beyond redemption."

The Arishok snorted. He was irritated at last. Asogen's counsel was wise – but only to a degree. His underling enacted a softer logic that did not befit the Qun. The Arishok thought of this rationale as circumventive and fruitless. "While your advice may be found favourable in the den that is a human court, Asogen, it will not aid us here. This land," he waved a large hand about their environs, "was bestowed to us. It is a sign. A sign that some are ready to accept discipline and order. Perhaps we should address this need."

Asogen's heart sank. This was bad. Their presence would, sooner or later, lead to some form of uprising. He was sure of it. At best, he could caution the Arishok and advise against impulse. "I...understand. But I encourage patience, and I urge that you do not strike a blow against these people unless they make the first move. And it should be a profound one. Should the insult be a slight against our people, no matter how wounded our pride, we should let the matter pass. Show them that we are their betters. Will you not consider what I have said?"

The Arishok smiled despite himself. Asogen had a talent for rooting out what stirred people's emotions; what made them tick, what rendered them compliant. He was _Ben-Hassrath_ after all. Most Qunari thought themselves better than those outside the Qun, and when given the choice between fight and flight, they often chose the former, for nothing came close to a glorious death. But the Arishok had once believed strongly in calculated restraint in favour of violence, and Asogen had been cunning enough to appeal to that old tendency.

"Very well, Asogen. I shall do so for your sake. But your time in Ostwick is at an end. You are needed by your brothers here."

He dismissed Asogen.

* * *

><p><em>He dreamed of the child, not as who she was now, but how she had been when they first met. Resilient and simultaneously eager. She was an impulsive thing, but somehow she had allowed him to mold her into a powerful weapon. One worthy of the Qun.<em>

_Asogen dreamed that he had brought her to Kirkwall, and that she now stood before the Arishok. A dark sense of foreboding had begun to come over him. He searched for it in the faces of his fellow Beresaad, but their expressions revealed no secret intents, no malice. The ground suddenly began to shake. It trembled at first, and then grew as it steadily rocked the compound. The tremours brought everyone to their hands and knees and they struggled to steady themselves. Eventually, the disruption ceased and everyone – save for Asogen – returned to what they had been doing with no concern for what had just happened._

_Fear grew in his heart, and he looked to the Waking Sea. An immense wave lay in the distance. As far away as it was, its crest lay high above the surface of the sea. It was closing in swiftly as it hurtled towards them, and it was...massive. Hundreds of feet tall. They would never make it far enough inland to survive it. _

_But he had to try._

_Asogen rushed towards the child and swept her up under one arm. He galloped faster; everything buzzed by him in a blur. He could hear the roar of crashing water behind him. As he ran, he looked around for something solid, something with deep roots that might help them survive. But the streets were barren. There was nothing. No trees, no people. The wave would pound them into the ground, and if the force did not leave them unconscious, it would suffocate them. To not be able to breathe..._

He woke up with a start. He stared up into nothingness, as he lay in the dark, breathing heavily. It was said that Qunari rarely dream, and this nightmare...it shook his core. All of a sudden, he decisively stood and sat down at a desk in his quarters. He lit a candle and searched for some blank vellum, an ink-well and a quill. He was not one for words, but there were times where they would be demanded of him. This was one of those times.

* * *

><p><strong>1 Month Later<strong>

"Evangeline!" cried her mother's voice from below the balcony. "Your uncle is here! Do please hurry! The carriage will be here any minute!"

Evangeline stared at the parchment, fingering its thick, course surface. She hadn't heard from Asogen in a month. He could have taken ill, or been wounded...or even died and she would have had no way of knowing. There was no way of reaching him. And, just this minute, a messenger had brought this to her along with an unopened parcel. It was from Kirkwall, he had said.

Parcel in hand, she hastily smoothed the rolled parchment and began to devour his words hungrily.

_Imekari,_

_Forgive me for referring to you as a child, but that is how I will forever see you. I mean no disrespect. It is a term of affection that I reserve solely for you._

_My absence must worry you greatly. I write this now for several reasons. The first is to tell you to cease worrying. I am well and in good health. The Arishok here in Kirkwall requires my presence. We came to your shores in search of someone who has taken something valuable from my people. This item has yet to be recovered, and as the Arishok seeks to address other concerns, I will aid him in his pursuits._

_Secondly, you are an impulsive thing so I urge you not to follow me here. Kirkwall reeks of rotting garbage and wet dog. Ostwick is fortunate to not possess a similar stench. I also urge you to refrain from committing to the Qun at this juncture. I understand your curiousity, but do not allow it to grow into anything more. At this point in time, such a decision is reckless and dangerous. I would never admit this to my brothers and sisters of the Qun, but our presence here in Kirkwall brings instability. I fear that this may develop into something more violent but I also pray that we will soon recover the artifact we seek. In doing so, we can return to Par Vollen without bloodshed._

_Thirdly, remember well all that I have taught you. Reason before action. A desire to fight does not always demonstrate strength. Keep your emotions in check. This involves restraining the raging bull – flaring nostrils are indicative of your quick temper. (Do not roll your eyes at that instruction. I can feel you doing so.) Always watch that left flank. If you have checked once already, do so again. And lastly, when circumstances leave you with no alternative but to meet violence with violence, and if those you engage in combat with are merciless, show them none. Fight with the furor I know you can. Always be mindful of your surroundings, give yourself to the flow of battle and not your emotions. Use your mind to your advantage._

_Lastly, I have sent a gift for you along with this letter. It was given to me by my daughter. She fell in battle before she could become Beresaad. We are not permitted to remain attached to our offspring for very long, but she was...special. And I carry her memory in my heart as I do yours._

_Perhaps we shall see one another before the end. I pray that we do._

_Be well, brave and wise._

_Asogen_

_P.S. Do not come to Kirkwall. I shall kick you out of its gates myself if you do._

* * *

><p>Evangeline raced down the stairs as she carefully tucked the precious letter inside her jacket. She thrust the unopened parcel into a small sack of meager but necessary belongings.<p>

Her mother waited out for her on the terrace. She stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs, and allowed her eyes to rest on her surroundings. She had read books about people who'd had to leave behind all they loved, and how they had expected everything to remain unchanged if and when they returned. In some tales, they had managed to come back to ruin and loss. In others, their homes and loved ones were unaltered and safe. But despite it all, everything had changed because of the difference their travails had made within their souls.

Everything her eyes touched in the here and now...all that would be different when she returned.

She remembered the salons her mother and aunt had thrown. Claudia, beautiful, immaculate Claudia readying herself for dances with her many suitors. Annette huffing at Evangeline's tactless behavior and rolling her eyes at Claudia's capricious nature. And Elena...

The front door opened and Elena stepped in, shutting the door behind her. Her golden hair was pinned back; soft locks that refused to be tamed hung down by her ears. Her blue eyes were puffy and red. She blinked something out of them.

"I know you said goodbye to us last night. I know you didn't want to see us today and – "

"I hate goodbyes." mumbled Evangeline, looking away. "Let's just do a see-you-later kind of deal, okay?"

"Evie girl," pleaded her sister.

Without looking directly at her, Evangeline could tell that Elena's lower lip was trembling. She could, in her mind's eye, see tears welling up in her sister's eyes.

"...I had to see you one more time," insisted Elena.

A knot formed in Evangeline's throat. She tried to fixate on a vase of tulips at the other end of the room. She made a valiant effort to hold down an escaping sob until she exploded like a sputtering, blubbering idiot.

Elena half-laughing and half-crying ran to her little sister with open arms. "You stupid, silly thing," she said fondly as the pair held each other tight and wept together.

"I'm getting boogers and snot all over your dress," wailed Evangeline in between sobs.

"I'll never wash it then."

Evangeline hit her sister playfully. She grasped Elena's hand and held it close to her chest. "What am I going to do without you?"

"You will be brave, and you will be glorious. You're going to make us all so proud."

"Or I could royally muck it all up." offered Evangeline. "In which case I shall come home in disgrace to you, and we can all be together again."

"Oh, Evie, you mustn't. You have to try. You have a gift that many men would give up so much for. Promise me you'll give it your best? That's all we can ask of you and all you can ask of yourself." She sighed and attempted to give Evangeline an encouraging smile. "And swear to me that you won't let Alec deter you from your training. I'm sure he's a nice boy, but he's impulsive and, well, you know."

Evangeline nodded in comprehension. "I know. Two impulsive fools doth not a good...uh...something make. I'll try my best to remain level-headed."

Elena wiped several tears from her little sister's face. "That's my girl. And promise me that you'll tell mother about him should your relationship with him get...serious?"

She nodded.

"And don't get yourself hurt." added Elena. "And I realize that you will have many duties, but if you could make it in time for my wedding next year, it would make me so happy."

"Just don't put me in a dress." sniffed Evangeline. And then, "I'll do my best to be there."

"Take good care of Bunty, too. You really are fortunate, you know – I didn't think they'd permit him to come along."

"With his antics, they might change their mind sooner than we anticipate."

Evangeline leaned in for one final embrace. She closed her eyes; holding her sister close, breathing in the perfumed scent of her hair. She clung to this moment, carving it into a memory that she would reserve for lonelier, darker times.

_Goodbye, my Elena. Be safe_.

* * *

><p><strong>3 Months Later<strong>

**Redcliffe**

The stone antechamber was devoid of windows. The masonry was quite old yet maintained a sense of majesty, and the intricate wall sconces that illuminated the elaborate tapestries that adorned the walls. He sat there, admiring the workmanship of the small castle, when a young Templar stepped out of the room.

"Bann Trevelyan? Knight Commander Biedrin will see you now."

He rose with a grunt, and hoped that his knees would not give out on him now. He shuffled into another windowless room and walked towards the opposite end of a rosewood desk.

Knight-Commander Biedrin, a greying man in his fifties came forward to shake his hand. "Simon, it's good to see you. Allow me to introduce to you Knight Commander Gregoir, he is – "

"In charge of the Mage's Circle near Lake Calenhad," finished Simon. "Your reputation precedes you, Knight Commander. It is an honour."

Gregoir, a bearded Templar with a set of deep, perceptive eyes, wiped his brow in mock-relief. "Then you've heard only good things. For a moment there, I was afraid you'd bring up the fireworks incident."

Simon looked from Biedrin to Gregoir in puzzlement.

"It's no matter," laughed Biedrin dismissively. "Please, sit down." He gestured towards a rich velvet armchair. Once he had sat down, the two Templars followed suit. "I take it you're here to inquire after your niece's progress?"

"Yes. I cannot express my gratitude for taking her in under such unusual circumstances. To offer to train her and yet not swear her into your Order. It speaks of patience and does great credit to the Templars."

Biedrin smiled graciously. "And she, in turn, does credit to the Order." His smile vanished. "I have to...well, let me come right to the heart of the matter. I take it that the rest of Thedas has – by now – heard of the death of King Cailan at the hands of the Grey Wardens?"

Simon Trevelyan closed his eyes in pained recollection. "The news reached Ostwick no longer than a month ago. It is true, then? The Grey Wardens murdered the king?"

Biedrin looked to one side. "It...appears that way. Acting Regent Loghain Mac Tir has issued a bounty for any rogue Grey Wardens. They are to be apprehended, if possible, and brought to Denerim for trial."

Simon narrowed his eyes. "You called him _Regent_, not _King_," he remarked.

"Very perceptive. Let it not go further than this room that there remain certain individuals who think that there is more to the tale than Loghain would have us believe." Beidrin sighed in exasperation. "But, even if it was, this brewing civil war does nothing to address the oncoming storm of the Blight."

"Then the rumours of Darkspawn and a Blight are...true?" questioned a bewildered Simon. "A missive was sent to our monarchy claiming that the Blight was a falsehood spread by Orlesian Grey Wardens to usurp control of Ferelden."

"It is no lie." spoke Gregoir. "Loghain's forces, in addition to our own, will be stretched to a breaking point. We cannot quell both a civil war and a Blight at the same time."

Biedrin leaned forward, clasped his hands in front of him on his desk, and looked at Simon Trevelyan pleadingly. "We need every man at our disposal. Citizen or not, if Ferelden falls to the Blight, mark my words that it will spread to all corners of Thedas." He dramatically pointed at his desk, not taking his eyes off Simon. "It needs to be stopped here and now. We Fereldens don't look to others to fight our battles for us, and if this was just a civil war we were contending with, we would not ask Orlesians, Free Marchers, Antivans or anyone to shed their blood for us."

"The Darkspawn threaten everyone," added Gregoir.

The gears chugged furiously in Simon Trevelyan's mind. "So...you want me to allow you induct my niece into your Order...?"

Biedrin nodded. "We would normally never ask this of an outsider. But the girl is clearly skilled, quite possibly more than half of our boys here. I do not know where she acquired such talents, but if you Free Marchers are as fearsome as she is, you are a force to be reckoned with."

Simon Trevelyan swallowed. "I was supposed to take the girl to the Chantry in Val Royeaux with me tomorrow. She is to assist me in transcribing some scrolls there..."

"Bann Trevelyan, we _implore_ you. We need everyone we can get. Your niece is not an exception. This very minute, several young men are being conscripted to the Order all over Ferelden. We have never had to exercise such laws until very recently. Tomorrow, Knight Commander Gregoir will head to other smaller towns to do the same. We could never forcefully conscript a foreigner, which is why we humbly plead for your permission."

"She is only sixteen...and her mother..." began Simon.

"Her mother left the decision in her daughter's hands, did she not?" reminded Beidrin.

"I...yes, she did."

"Will you not speak with the girl?" urged Gregoir.

At that very moment, Simon Trevelyan felt ambushed. Who were these Fereldens to demand that he provide them with soldiers to fight their wars for them? Alright, so they had only asked for his niece. But she was precious to his family. And, yes, the confirmation of a Blight was bleak news. But it had arisen on Ferelden soil. It was their problem to deal with.

"I will talk with her." relented Simon, as he exhaled heavily.

* * *

><p>Evangeline was by the stables. In the bright moonlight he could see that she was perched atop a rather high fence, hair blowing behind her, and hooted as her Mabari ran in wild circles around the field.<p>

"Do those laps, Bunty!" she shouted and clapped as she cheered him on. "Let it all out! Who's a fearsome warrior? You are!"

"Evangeline Trevelyan!" exclaimed Simon. "Get off that fence at once – you'll break your pretty little neck!"

"Uncle!" she yelled in delight. She jumped down, landing on all fours and rushed to embrace him. "Any news from home? How're mother, Annette and Claudia? Has Elena set a date for the wedding? Did you bring Bunty's toys as I'd asked?"

"I have no time for canine frivolities, child," scowled Simon. But he was pleased to see her. Her hair was much longer now; it had come down to her shoulders. "Everyone sends their love and regards."

"They don't let him out as much as they should," commented Evangeline as she gazed out at Bunty. His circular gallops had morphed into frenzied frolicking in completely random directions. "Some days he can't take it and howls to be let out. He's the smartest thing in this entire place. You can't cage an intelligent mind like that and expect it to remain calm. It'd drive anyone batty."

"I came to...well...ask you how you like it here."

"It's not too bad. I don't hate it as much I make it sound in my letters. Although there are hardly any women – save for the servants – here. I'm not quite used to that yet. But all the initiates are pretty decent."

"Have you made any friends?"

"I'm not...very sociable. But I do have one. His name is Adric." Her face lit up at the mention of his name. "He fancies other boys! Though no one else really knows. Fraternization is forbidden. You know how it is. But we sometimes sit and look at boys together. He's immensely clever, and between the two of us, we've managed to liven up ye ol' mausoleum a little bit. Why just yesterday, we cut up some cheese and put it in Knight Commander Biedrin's soap dish. I don't think he even noticed. He reeks of gouda. It would have been a _gouda_ thing if he'd checked first, don't you think?" She playfully punched the side of her uncle's arm and doubled over in laughter at her own bad joke.

Simon stared at her, rather aghast. "'Pon my word! Being a Templar is a serious business!" And then, on giving the girl another look, he noticed how lively her eyes had become. She seemed so animated, almost bordering the realm of hyperactivity. "Have they forced you to take Lyrium?" he asked with sudden concern.

"Of course not. Don't be silly. Though I am the only 'recruit' who remains uncommitted."

Simon cleared his throat. "Well, see now, that's why I'm here. I've been asked to speak with you."

"Oh?"

"With Ferelden's monarchy in tatters and the Darkspawn threat – "

" – don't tell the others back home. You know how Elena and Mother will worry."

Her uncle nodded impatiently. "With this imminent Darkspawn threat, it appears as if –"

"And you might want to keep it from Aunt Lucille as well. You _know_ how she likes to gossip."

"Will you let me finish!" exclaimed Simon. "This is hard enough as it is!"

She nodded and gave him her gravest expression. But her eyes were clearly laughing.

Simon ignored her and continued. "There is the possibility that this is an actual Blight. Biedrin and Gregoir have asked me to ask you...if you would consider pledging yourself to the Templar Order. Now I know that your mother and I have agreed that this...situation is purely a trial and that you can remain as non-committal as you wanted as long as you gave it your best effort. And to a large degree, this is still the case. But the Templars are lacking in manpower and resources and you have been asked to sacrifice more."

Her eyes lost all trace of merriment. "And if I don't?"

"We have permission to leave. But that would mean that your time here is at an end."

"All in or out, huh?" she remarked to herself.

Her mind wandered towards thoughts of Asogen. She was selfish, often frivolous, whereas he never displaced his responsibilities onto another's shoulders. Being honourable did not feel as glorious as she'd imagined. If she refused the request, she would be back home within a week. With Mother, Annette, Claudia and her Elena. Her heart grew warm at the prospect of returning. If she left it wasn't as if the Templars would be one man short. They never quite _had_ her to begin with.

What was the harm in turning them down?

"Give me an hour," she said finally. "They'll have their answer then."

* * *

><p>It was telling Stroud about it that was the hard part. For some absurd reason, he was under the impression that she would soon abandon the Templars and they would go cavorting across Thedas. When she had confessed to him that she would be joining them on a permanent basis, he flew into a small fit of rage that she found did not become him. He teetered from pleading with her to change her mind to flinging books across the room when she refused. He never threw anything in her direction, although she secretly wished he would so that it would provide her with a reason to literally knock some sense into him.<p>

The Templar Order would never let them be together, he argued. She told him that relationships weren't forbidden as long as one's loyalty to the Order wasn't compromised. She understood how much he loved her and she him. But he persisted as tempers of both parties rose. What if it came down to saving his life and that of a fellow Templar? Who would she choose? And what about Lyrium addiction? That's how they kept their own leashed and bound to the Order. She would choose _them_ over him every single time, he was certain of it.

She stormed out of his shack, furious that he wouldn't allow her to resolve the matter. She hated leaving it like this and hated him even more for allowing her to. She felt that she deserved that much.

But the world never gave anyone quite what they deserved and this aspect of it was a universal given. In that sense, at least, it was fair.

* * *

><p><strong>1 Year Later<strong>

The white pawn, its bulbous head adorned with a crudely drawn face of a deranged clown, was moved two spaces forward.

The golden rook, its face _and_ body tarted up to resemble an Antivan whore complete with near-to-bursting cleavage and fishnet stockings, was raised off the board momentarily and deliberately made to knock over the clown-pawn.

"Now that's just daft." came a male voice, as he gestured towards his fallen pawn. "You've left yourself wide open. My knight takes your king. Checkmate. Didn't you learn anything after _months_ of playing with me?" The young man, his chiseled face the picture of feigned shock, gaped at his opponent.

"Well. You win again." said an exasperated Evangeline.

"That comes as no surprise. You're thinking about your Alec again. I can tell. Every time this happens, you run into this like a bull with an arrow up its arse."

"Shut up, Adric."

"You know I'm right." He sighed. And then, in a mundane monotone, "What happened this time..."

"Nothing."

"You were at each other's throats, weren't you." He shook his head. "I keep telling you. You two are too much alike. And as much as I adore you, heart of my heart, you two have an unhealthy excess of the same qualities. You'll kill each other before the end."

"No we won't." She nodded towards the board. "Let's go again. I want the chance to win my dignity back."

Adric narrowed his grey eyes. "You didn't take your Lyrium today either, did you?" He tutted at her in mild disapproval as he arranged the pieces on the board. "Sooner or later, you know someone's going to find out."

Evangeline looked at him sharply.

Adric held up his hands in a placating expression. "Your secret – should it remain that way – will go with me to my grave. But Biedrin's not a complete imbecile. He'll find out one way or another."

"Then I'll deal with it when it happens," she said with considerable annoyance.

"You're going to lose this game faster than the last one." he noted. "So just to be a good sport and all that, I'll let you have an extra move. On the house."

"You can take your charity," she said as she brought her knight-turned-lizard forward and slapped it down with an impudent thwack, "and shove it up your perfectly-sculpted arse."

"You noticed," said Adric, giving her his most saccharine smile.

Her face broke into a chuckle. "You daft idiot." she said fondly.

A cacophony suddenly erupted in the dining room next door. The two friends looked up with interest.

A red-headed lad, one year their junior, stuck his freckled face through the arched doorway and beckoned to them. "Biedrin just got a missive from Knight Commander Gregoir," he began, his face rather grave. "Says he wants us to assemble in the hall."

"What? Now?" exclaimed Adric. "We're half an hour away from prayers and lights-out!"

"Yeah. I know. Must be serious."

* * *

><p>As soon as the scraping and scuffling of chairs against stone, the coughs and concerned murmurings had subsided, the only sound that permeated the thick silence was the crackling and occasional roar of the fire that burned in the hearth. Gregoir stepped forward and put a fist to his mouth; clearing his throat before addressing his colleagues and students.<p>

"I don't quite know how to ease you into this...development, so I'll come straight out and say it. There has been an uprising at the Mage's Circle. It is not Darkspawn as we had initially feared. However, in a way, it could have been potentially worse."

A young voice interrupted his speech. "_Could have_?" repeated the boy. "As in...it's over now?"

Biedrin nodded. "Yes. The situation is under control. Thank the Maker. But the Circle has been left severely short-staffed and – "

At this a hum of murmurs arose among the small crowd which Biedrin had to quell by raising his voice.

"The Circle is short-staffed. And it is as it sounds. Knight Commander Gregoir is safe and alive. But he had lost many of his Templars to this predicament. And he has requested that – "

"Can't you just tell us what's happened?" came another voice from the throng.

"I...do not wish to induce panic."

"You'll cause more panic by not saying anything," said Adric. He quickly looked down, unwilling to be identified.

"You have a point," conceded Biedrin. "Uldred has allowed himself to become possessed. As did some of the mages who followed him. Blood magic, as you might have already guessed, was involved. For several days, demons have run amuck within the Tower. The Right of Annulment was almost exercised. Thankfully, Gregoir did not have to use it. Uldred – or at least the demon within him – has been dealt with. The Circle is free of all corruption but there still remains the matter of recovery. The Knight Commander has lost too many men. What men he has left are in no suitable condition to carry out their Templar duties. He has informed me that a few blood mages remain who have escaped. He has their phylacteries in his possession but his men are by no means fit to pursue them."

"Is Grand Enchanter Irving alive?" questioned a voice.

"Yes he is."

"Why have you called us here?"

"I need volunteers. He needs at least ten of you to travel to Lake Calenhad and restore order. It will not be an easy task. There are mages who were not party to this uprising who need to be handled with care. As do the remaining Templars."

Evangeline looked at Adric. "Well?" she mouthed silently.

Adric gave her an extremely charming half-smile. He leaned into her ear and whispered, "I'm game if you are."

The pair were the first of many to step forward.


	8. Reunion

**Author's note:**

Thank you again to **ExcidiumHawke, Ryoko Metallium** and **Gil Shalos1** for taking the time to read and review. I wouldn't have much of an incentive to continue if it wasn't for your support.

* * *

><p><strong>Reunion<strong>

**Redcliffe**

She pulled away from him, breathless and hungry. One hand circled her waist while the other ran up her neck and into her hair. Stroud pushed her up against the wall and she bumped into a side table, nearly knocking the oil lamp over.

"I like it when we fight and make up," he murmured.

"I'd prefer it if we didn't have to fight at all," she replied.

He kissed her harder the second time; her sense of touch heightened in response.

The damnable Templars had permitted their junior members only one leisurely day a week to spend as they chose; so long as such activities did not violate or contradict Templar rules and teachings. All the other remaining days were spent honing their skills, learning and upholding tenets of the Order. Stroud had argued that they were robbing her of him, and he couldn't deny that it left him feeling cheated and slightly bitter. There were times when he had wondered if he'd made the right decision in coming here. All this deception and sneaking about...he hated the fact that they couldn't even be seen in public together.

But then...there were moments like this where all the anger, the frustrations, dissipated.

He took off her jacket, and removed his own shirt in between kisses and slipped his hand underneath her white linen shirt.

"Wait..." she whispered.

"I've been waiting over a year."

It was true. Stroud had stood by patiently for them to consummate their relationship, but she had always maintained a feeling of trepidation. Perhaps, she decided, she was waiting for the perfect time and place. But what if it never came? What if her new life and duties thereof took her from him?

Adric was right – to an extent. Evangeline and Stroud bickered constantly – both had tendencies to succumb to emotional extremes. But at the end of it, they found one another again, sheepish in their guilt, and made up with as much passion as they had during their arguments. There were times where she found it quite exhausting. She thought she loved him; more than a year into it, they were still clearly infatuated with each other.

_Then why wait_, she asked herself? It's not as if they were getting married and having children. Which was an entirely novel fear altogether. _Yeah, why not?_

"Okay. Alright." she relented, much for her own benefit as for his. Her hands went cold and her stomach churned. "Give me a glass of your strongest wine. Ale. _Booze_."

Stroud turned his attention to a small cabinet at the end of the room and back to her again. "You want to be _drunk_ while we have sex?" he asked incredulously.

"No. _No_. Just a little to take the edge off. I'm as nervous as hell – here, feel this." Evangeline placed her hand in his. It was like ice.

Stroud nodded and fetched her a cup.

* * *

><p>She guzzled the alcohol quickly, and on an empty stomach its effects took hold of her faster. It had certainly become easier. Her inhibitions were lowered and her mind grew foggy. It was as if she traded rationale for a different perception entirely. One that made her skin come alive with an intense yearning. She regarded Stroud with a foreign hunger. True, there were smatterings of love thereabouts, but this was assuredly lust. He stood a few feet away and was shirtless. He truly was...quite the specimen. Lean and not bulky. Hard but not cold. And he was all hers. She took her time examining his chest and couldn't help but reach out with her right hand to touch it. As she ran her fingers down slowly to his abdomen, she locked her gaze in his. He looked back at the violet eyes that lay behind her thick, dark brows and forgot to breathe.<p>

Evangeline could not handle the gap anymore, and with one swift stride, she covered the distance between them. She kissed Stroud with renewed intensity and the two were quick in helping one another break free of their trousers.

"The bed?" he asked as he removed her shirt.

"No. Here. Standing up. Against the wall."

"Yes, ma'am." he said with a broad smile.

* * *

><p>Evangeline had no clue how long the entire event had lasted. It could have been five minutes, or it could have been an hour. In the haze of this alcoholic buzz, the only thing she was certain of was the warmth of satisfaction spreading over her being. Admittedly, she wasn't certain if this was how she imagined her first time would be, but - she had to confess - it wasn't bad. Not bad at all.<p>

"Maker," panted Stroud, breathless as he stepped back from her. "If I had known..."

She looked at him, one corner of her mouth turned upwards. "We should do this more often."

"All day long if I can manage it," quipped Stroud.

"My superiors might have something to say about that," she said as she dressed herself.

"Fuck the Templars." And then, half-jokingly, "Come on, Evie, let's run away – you and me. Let's leave all this behind us."

The effects of the alcohol were starting to wear off. "So...you propose what, exactly? We find ourselves another home?"

He nodded.

"And when you get tired of that place – then what?"

"We go somewhere else."

She regarded him with a modicum of sadness in her eyes. "Of course."

Stroud failed to notice anything. "Just...well, think about it, is all."

She buttoned her shirt and put on her jacket. "Promise you'll take good care of Bunty? He needs to get out and run around at least thrice a day. And it helps if you applaud him while he does his laps. He _does_ like an audience. I should be back in a few weeks."

Stroud placed a solemn hand on his breast. "I swear it."

And just as she stepped out of the threshold and into the night air, he called after her. "Evie...I...thank you. For tonight."

She smiled and walked out.

* * *

><p><strong>Lake Calenhad<strong>

**The Circle Tower**

_She floated towards him. Her slender fingers tapered into long and sharp nails. Or were those claws...? He couldn't quite discern the details. At any rate, it didn't matter. She...it...had probed the recesses of his mind. It had broken barriers and combed his memories for vulnerabilities._

_**Do you**__, it had asked coyly, __**want me to be her?**_

_And the image shifted to that of the innocent girl. She was wearing the same maroon dress he'd first seen her in. She looked around her nervously – just as she'd done that night. But no. It wasn't her. Not truly._

_With tremendous effort he managed to disrupt it. But then, from the corners of this murky nightmare, stepped forward a beaten and bloody form of one his colleagues, his friend. It regarded Cullen dully; and then shuffled towards him._

"Why did it spare you?" _the apparition asked_.

_**I don't know.**_

"Why keep you contained and kill the rest of us?"

_**Please...I don't know.**_

"Were you colluding with it?"

_**No. I promise. I swear to you. I wasn't**_.

_The broken figure swung a fractured arm in his direction and bellowed_. "Then why do I remain dead while you still breathe!"

"_I don't know!_" yelled the Templar as his eyes shot open. Head still firmly on the pillow, and his body rolled into a fetal position in the cot, he couldn't help but attract the attention of the Chantry Sister in the corner of the room. And the room was familiar. He lay in the infirmary within the Circle Tower.

"Still here," he murmured, oblivious to the fact that he was talking out loud. "Why am I still here? Somebody please tell me why!"

The Sister rushed to his side to comfort him. "It's alright, child. It's over now. The Maker has heard your cries and has come to your aid."

Cullen scowled and pushed her arm aside as he sat up on the rickety cot. He grabbed his head in his hands. "She was right. There is no Maker. No deity could stand by and let all this happen."

The Sister looked at him, troubled. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as she knelt by his side. He did not brush it away. "We are servants of the Maker. Here to do His will. My presence here is evidence enough of His compassion. Will you not let me help you?"

"You can't." he muttered, his voice breaking. "Nothing can fix this."

"Perhaps you should talk about what you saw. Or lie back down," insisted the Sister.

"No. I've slept long enough." The cot creaked as he got up and staggered out of the room.

* * *

><p>"<em>Now!<em> You're asking me this now?" exclaimed Evangeline as they sat in the large kitchen. The fire from the hearth was the only source of flickering light. It danced against the wide tables and benches in the empty - save for its two occupants - room.

Most of the Circle Tower's inhabitants had turned in for the night. Occasionally, a servant would wander in to finish a forgotten, half-complete task. But for the most part, they were alone. And due to the pair's insomniac tendencies, they had decided to come here. To seek solace in each other's company. Well, that was the intention, anyway.

"Well, you're hair was significantly disheveled. Trust me, I can tell. And you had this..._glow_ about you."

She leaned forward and whispered harshly at him. She pointed to one side with vigour. "There are _corpses_ being burned outside. They can't even afford to provide them with a dignified burial because of the condition of the bodies. How can you take..._pieces_ back to their families? Every sodding Templar here is traumatized by what happened. And you..._you're asking me about my sex life?_"

Adric took a sip of his tea; unperturbed. "Evangeline dear, don't be so thick."

She flung her hands up in futility.

Adric fiddled with removing something out of the corner of his eye. "You – along with the rest of our esteemed Order – just spent several minutes regurgitating your last meals onto the courtyard of this establishment. Billy and some of the others have come down with an uncontrollable fit of the shakes. No one – not a _single person_ – could walk through these hallways, stumble upon the aftermath of this..._slaughter_ and walk away unscathed. So, yes. _Do_ reprimand me with your superior sense of morality. Chastise me as I attempt distract you from all this death and destruction."

Evangeline leaned back and mouthed a silent _oh_.

Adric rolled his eyes heavenwards. "You really do try my patience, you know."

"Sorry..." she said sheepishly. "You're alright," she smiled as she leaned over and slugged Adric on the arm.

"I'm more than alright," remarked Adric. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Well. As enthralling as this short conversation has been, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to call it a night. I suggest that you do the same."

Evangeline rose up to warm herself by the fire. "You go ahead. I just have to...think for a while."

* * *

><p>She removed her shoes and flexed her weary feet. The heat from the blaze was welcome and she was grateful that no one had decided to put it out.<p>

What had happened here seemed to have leapt off the pages of a historical tome. They had all heard of abominations, but they were still of junior rank and only a few had witnessed a Harrowing. According to Knight Commander Gregoir, Uldred had courted blood magic in order to win mages their freedom. But as such flirtations with dark powers typically go, things spiraled quickly out of control. A demon possessed Uldred and his cohorts and the chaos that ensued would have laid waste to everyone trapped inside. So grim was the situation that the Knight Commander was prepared to enact the Right of Annulment.

If it hadn't been for the aid of two Grey Wardens, a senior Enchanter and dwarf, Irving would be dead and the mages lost.

Had she stepped into some morbid tale of misadventure?

"I – I'm sorry," came a male voice from one end of the room, startling her. "I didn't know anyone else was in here."

"It's okay," she said without turning around.

"Are you...with the Chantry?" he asked.

Evangeline snorted. "Not quite. We came at Gregoir's behest to help out."

"Ah. I'll not trouble you then. Just came to get something to drink."

As he clattered about, Evangeline – too lazy to put her shoes back on – sat up and stretched. Maybe it _was_ time to sleep. She'd have to wake up in five hours anyway. She walked past the man, slightly bleary-eyed. He filled a kettle and began to boil some water. As she neared the doorway, Evangeline paused. Given the lateness of the hour, her mind was sluggish and seemed to struggle to shine a light on something she had missed. But it eluded her, and with a shrug she continued on her way.

"Evangeline?" called the voice.

She froze out in the hallway. The man hurried towards her.

"Evangeline?" he repeated, this time to her face.

Her eyes widened, as if she'd seen a ghost. A stubbled, red-eyed, gaunt face looked back at her in equal surprise.

"Cullen," she almost whispered. "Here?"

His eyes ran over her face. She was a little different, her hair was longer, she had a slight scar above her left brow but those same eyes he saw in dreams and now, nightmares, looked back at him. "Are you real?" he said quietly.

"_What?_ Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" she exclaimed, rather harshly. And then a flood of realization came over her. _Stupid, stupid, Evie_. He was in shock. "You were here, weren't you?" she asked, softening her tone. "You were here when it happened."

He stared back at her, at a loss for words. He quickly looked away. He was remembering, trying to formulate something coherent. But it clearly hurt because he winced as he did so. Whether this was physical, emotional or both – she did not know.

_What the hell would Elena do in a situation like this?_

She cocked her head slightly to one side, trying to get his attention. She put a reassuring arm on his shoulder. He flinched and pulled back.

"I – I'm sorry," he muttered.

_Okay_. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know."

"I would never hurt you."

"I know.

"Would you like to play some chess with me?"

* * *

><p>He took her to the cellar. No one died in here, he said. They cleared several moth-eaten scrolls and parchments in a fairly well-lit corner, sat down on the floor opposite each other and set up the game.<p>

The distraction seemed to clear his head somewhat. He picked up one piece after another and looked at them quizzically.

"Evie, why do these pieces have faces on them?" he asked. He studied a rook and thrust it out in her direction. "This one looks like a whore!"

She coloured slightly. "I...ah. We – that is, Adric and I myself..." she gave up all efforts at finding an explanation so assigned blame instead. "Oh I don't know. He's Ser Adric, Lord of Whimsy. Who _knows_ why he does what he does."

"I'm sure you had a hand in it. You used to be quite whimsical, too, if I remember correctly," said Cullen, eying her. "It wouldn't surprise me at all if you still were."

Evangeline gave him a wan smile. For whatever reason, being down here with him alone felt...strange. A _nice_ kind of strange.

"Who's Adric?" he questioned.

"My fellow Templar and friend."

"So you're a Templar now, huh?" he asked. "Whatever happened to_: I'd rather recite dirty limericks while juggling nugs at the Wintersend Ball than join the Templars?_" He moved his pawn forward.

"Not quite a Templar yet," she corrected, "and I never said anything of the sort." She moved her castle three spaces to the left.

"Oh, I promise you that you did."

"When?"

"Don't you remember? The night Bunty crashed your mother's salon. You had a little too much to drink afterwards."

_The night you held me as I passed out from my drunken stupor? And in that stupor, I told you about Ser Rutherford and the goat. And you went to all the trouble of making a replacement_. The memories flooded in against her wishes. She shuddered in an effort to expel them.

"Are you cold?" he asked. "I could go get you a blanket."

"No. I'm...uh...fine. It's your move."

"This is a refreshing change, you know," he commented. "For the last few weeks, everyone's been insisting that I rest. Lie down. No one – until now – has had the sense to bring back some degree of normalcy. Sometimes a smattering of everyday tedium is the best medicine."

She looked up at him playfully. "Are you calling this game tedious, Cullen?"

He chuckled. "Not at all. It's just nice – is all. Playing it. With you." He swallowed.

"Well, you're going to like it even more soon enough. I'm really quite terrible at it. I haven't won a game for several months."

"I used to play with my sister a lot. She was undeniably the better player."

She'd wanted to ask him if he'd informed his family about recent events, but looking at him now – his face seemed a shade brighter, quite possibly due to recent distractions. No need to remind him of what he had just endured. "You're still one up on me. Adric only taught me about a year ago."

He shifted his position into a more comfortable cross-legged one. "I have to confess, as much as I've been thinking about you, you're the last person I expected to see here."

And as soon as he had said it, he froze. He shut his eyes tight, and didn't dare peek. A red hue flushed his cheeks and he stammered, trying valiantly to recover some shred of dignity. "I...that is to say...thinking about you right after I saw you. In the kitchens. Because that was when I saw you. Tonight. Earlier."

Evangeline remained silent. Uncertain of what she should say. _Well, think of something, anything!_ "Ser Rutherford!" she exclaimed suddenly. It was her turn to swallow nervously. "The bear, I mean. Elena told me that you gave him his hat and his cape. It was really very sweet, Cullen. Thank you."

"Did you like him? Was he...uh...anything like his predecessor?" he asked, still unable to look her in the eye.

She smiled. "Oh, yes. Tremendously. I can honestly say it has been an absolute joy to sleep with Ser Rutherford beside me every night. He is _such _a sweetheart." _Maferath's balls. She had walked right into that one_. "The bear, I mean. Not you. Not that you're not a sweetheart...I...ugh!"

Cullen hung his head and chuckled. "Thank you for this."

"For what? My social ineptitude?" she asked; cheeks still very red.

"I didn't think I'd be able to laugh again. At least not this soon." He reached out for her hand in gratitude. But he held on to it a little longer than necessary, and his thumb stroked her skin, sending something electric down her spine. And then his hand was by his side again and the moment was over.

* * *

><p>He deliberately exposed his queen and sacrificed his knight in order to clear a path for her rook. As Evangeline felled his king, she stared at the board in slight disbelief.<p>

"I...won?" she said.

"It would appear so."

"I'll be damned. I wish Adric was here to see it." She narrowed her eyes at him. _He hadn't... let her win, had he? No, of course he didn't_.

She got up and stretched. "I...should probably get to bed. You ought to as well."

He helped her put away the pieces and fold up the board. "I'm going to stay down here for a few minutes longer. You go ahead."

Evangeline stared at him in concern. "You're going to sleep down here tonight, aren't you?" He gazed back at her, wordlessly. She went on. "It's like you said earlier. Nothing happened down here and you can't feel that fear. So, _here_ is safe."

He gave her a barely perceptible nod.

Her eyes lit up. "Wait right here, don't go anywhere!"

In a few minutes, he could hear her patter down the steps. She carried a roll of sheets and two pillows before her. She plonked it down in front of him. "Ser Rutherford of Honnleath, who thankfully wasn't devoured by a gluttonous goat, it would be my absolute pleasure to return the favour you so humbly bestowed upon me in Ostwick." She rolled out the sheets and fluffed up the pillows.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Keeping you company."

"I thought you didn't remember that night..."

"I don't. Elena told me. Besides, you're my friend and this is what friends do for each other. Now scooch over."

Cullen sat propped up against her shoulder. "I don't want to lie down." he said, his voice barely audible.

"Why not?"

"Dreams. Bad ones. Sometimes I think lying down makes it worse."

"Okay." She slipped an arm around him and rested her cheek against his hair. "What makes it better?"

He paused. "Limericks. Tell me some of the most absurd limericks you've ever heard of."

Evangeline laughed. Imagination rampant, she thought up a number of utterly ridiculous limericks to help put his mind at ease.

He fell asleep to the sound of her voice and the thought of a Chantry priest performing somersaults into churned butter.


	9. Consequences

**Author's note:**

As always, many thanks to those of you who've read and reviewed. It means a lot.

* * *

><p><em>Blessed are they who stand before<em>

_The Corrupt and the Wicked and do not falter_

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the Champions of the just..._

He awoke to the muffled sound of several voices above him. It was difficult to discern the words, but having recited it every morning since the age of twelve, the verse had become innate. It was from the _Canticle of Benedictions_, and was frequently used by Chanters to praise those who had aided others in the name of the Maker.

The events of the previous night trickled in, and he found himself reaching out for her groggily. Instead of her person, however, his hand grasped something small and distinctly furry with some form of cloth attached to it. He pulled the object towards him for closer examination.

A corner of Cullen's lips turned upwards. _Of course_. Of course she would leave the bear with him. His eyes also caught sight of a torn scrap of vellum upon which lay some words.

_Hope you slept soundly with no bad dreams. Sorry I had to leave – duty calls. You know how it is. I didn't completely neglect you though. Left Ser Rutherford by your side to keep you company. He isn't much of a talker but he possesses a silent strength. Hope to see you sometime this evening._

E.

He fingered the paper gently. He'd slept better than he had in weeks.

* * *

><p>Cullen walked into the Templar dormitory, found himself a private corner, and started to dress himself. He wasn't quite prepared to be decked in full Templar regalia, but a casual step towards normalcy was a start. He buttoned the long-sleeved white shirt and adjusted the collar. He slowly put each leg into his tan trousers and then sat down on a stool to lace up his boots. He wasn't sure how presentable he was but he was far too reluctant to look in a mirror to find out. The last time he'd gazed at his own image, the bloodshot eyes that reflected back seemed to belong to another person entirely.<p>

Somewhat satisfied sans mirror, he walked out of the Templar quarters and went to search for Knight Commander Gregoir.

* * *

><p>Under normal circumstances, had Cullen waltzed into the Knight Commander's office this late in the day, he would have elicited a sharp reprimand. But these weren't mundane occurrences. Cullen knew he wasn't quite up to waltzing in anywhere. And Gregoir was keenly aware of it as well. The young man had been shut up within an impenetrable field of magic for a little over two days. Uldred's demons had sifted through Cullen's mind and had used his own memories against him until he could no longer distinguish nightmare from reality. To have come out of it with at least part of his persona intact, it showed remarkable strength of will.<p>

He still had a long way to go, in terms of recovery, but these things took time and Gregoir was willing to be as accommodating as possible.

A knock sounded on the door to his study.

"Come in," the Knight Commander said.

Cullen stepped in. "I hope this is not a bad time. I came to apologize for my tardiness."

Gregoir's eyes widened for the briefest of moments. The difference between the boy he'd seen during these past trying weeks and the one who stared back at him now was night and day. Gregoir had ordered the Chantry healer to increase his dosage of Lyrium in order to ease Cullen's transition towards recovery, but the Lyrium didn't seem to elicit much of an improvement. Something else had, however. That much was clear.

"You have nothing to apologize for," said Gregoir. He loosely gestured in Cullen's direction. "You look...well. I trust you're feeling better?"

"I think so. Quite possibly – yes."

Gregoir smiled. "I am relieved to hear it."

Cullen fidgeted with his fingers. "I know that you've been concerned about me lately, and I just thought of something that might help me move forward."

The older man nodded for him to continue.

"I ran across Quentin earlier. He told me that some phylacteries arrived just this morning. From the White Spire."

"Correct. After three of the mages escaped, I sent for their phylacteries to be delivered. The sooner we track them down, the better. We can't have what happened here spread to the nearest villages. Or, Maker forbid, beyond it. This kind of...insurrection is potentially contagious. If the escaped mages – well, I suppose they're apostates now...If the escaped apostates managed to reach other mages sympathetic to their cause, and if they still retain knowledge that Uldred has imparted to them, this could get bad very quickly."

_As if wasn't bad enough already_, thought Cullen. "I would like to help you trace them."

"You want to hunt them down?" asked Gregoir with raised eyebrows.

"Yes."

"No. Absolutely not. Not yet, at least."

Cullen was taken aback by how quickly his Knight Commander had come to this decision. "Might I inquire why?"

"Don't ask questions to which you would not like the answers," cautioned Gregoir.

"I suppose it is not my decision to make, but I do have a right to know why I was denied," frowned Cullen.

Gregoir exhaled deeply. "You wanted the Grey Wardens to kill all the surviving mages. Mages who were not party to Uldred's schemes. You asked for the Right of Annulment to be enforced after the situation was brought under control."

"I know I might have been emotionally – "

Gregoir held up an interrupting hand. "You were significantly traumatized. Of course you were emotionally compromised. Quite frankly, I am amazed at your rapid recovery. Torture of this sort would have broken a lesser man. So yes, _I get it_. But I have been Knight Commander long enough to distinguish vengeance from duty. Revenge has gotten many fine soldiers under my command killed. And I would rather risk damnation than repeat history today. So the answer to your question, Cullen, is an emphatic _no_."

"Who'll track them down then?"

"I sent out some of Biedrin's Templars an hour ago. They'll get the job done."

_Evangeline_. "You do know that some of those Templars have been in the Order for a very short time, don't you? They may not be able to contend with blood mages."

"Do you think me an idiot?" said Gregoir, a trifle annoyed. "They've been paired with more senior soldiers. There is a war coming and this will be a good opportunity to test their mettle. And besides, next to myself, Knight Commander Biedrin has trained some of the finest Templars I've ever seen."

* * *

><p>"For heaven's sake – don't <em>drop<em> the damn thing!" cried Adric, horrified, as he rushed towards Evangeline.

The hourglass-shaped phylactery she had been holding slipped clumsily from her grasp, but she had reached out just in time to prevent it from shattering into hundreds of irrecoverable pieces.

"Sorry, _sorry!_" she wailed.

"Give me that." said Adric as he snatched the delicate vial from her hand. "Would you _try_ not to use all ten of your thumbs at once?"

It was best to let him have his way. For a little over an hour now, the phylactery – it's glow increasing in gradual degrees – had led them down the forest path. But as they wandered farther in, the phylactery grew cold and dark. Several minutes later, the trees were beginning to thin, and Adric swatted at loose, overhanging branches in frustration.

"This is a right royal mess," he groused as he began to admonish himself out loud. "_I'm_ the one who's two years your senior, _I'm_ the one with significantly more experience. So what do I do? I entrust the phylactery to _you_, in the hope that you would pick up some kind of trace. But no. You were certain it was this way, you said. _He's in the forest – I'm sure of it_. And then what happens once we're neck deep in the woods? The vial stops glowing. What the hell were you looking at then? _It could have been the sunlight...reflecting off the glass_." Adric slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Imbecile!"

"Not one of your brightest moments. Nor mine for that matter." quipped Evie, who clamped her jaw shut after Adric shot her a withering look.

"If ever the Templar order requires a comedic routine, I'll be sure to volunteer our services." His shoulders slumped as he turned around slowly. "Well, there's nothing to be done standing here. Let's retrace our steps and start over."

* * *

><p>Evangeline munched on some stale bread as she watched Adric pace forward. It was difficult navigating this hilly terrain but the pair had managed it, and now, the phylactery was glowing brighter than ever before. And sunlight had nothing to do with it.<p>

Adric looked up from it and grinned. "It's warm too. And you know what _that_ means."

Evangeline tossed the rubbery bread aside and walked up to him. "He's used magic recently, hasn't he?"

Adric nodded and handed her the phylactery. She held it in one hand and used the other to block out external, interfering light, and peered at it. _Yup. Definitely glowing_. "Nice work, Adric." she said, giving the vial back to him.

"You know, some Templars are able to exert a degree of control over a mage just by using their phylactery. I'd be willing to bet that they could make the mage walk right out into the open."

"Can you?"

"I'm afraid not. Or at least, not yet."

He jogged forward and surveyed the valley below. A stream weaved its way before them, and as his eyes followed its path, they met a small, ramshackle old cabin.

Adric turned to Evangeline and beamed. He stuck his hand out towards her. "Ten to one that he's in there with his feet up, quite happy in the belief that he's eluded us. If I'm right, you're buying me a pint. Actually, even if I'm wrong, you're still buying me one. I'm owed a stiff drink after what you put me through."

Evangeline grinned and shook his hand before they carefully descended down the hill.

* * *

><p>Cullen finally found her cot in a corner. It was one of the few that had not been neatly made. He approached it and picked up a book she had laid on the floor. He examined its title. <em>Chantry Priests II – The Reckoning<em>, by Varric Tethras. The cover illustration depicted three, terribly grim Chantry brothers with swords in their hands. A fire...or an explosion, perhaps, lay behind them in the background.

"Oh, Evie." murmured Cullen with affection. He'd have to ask her about this later.

He had wanted to return the bear to his rightful place under her pillow when the idea came over him to make her bed up properly. He put Ser Rutherford's furry self aside and set about removing and replacing the blankets. As he lifted the thin mattress to tuck the sheets underneath, he heard a muffled clinking sound – as if something made of glass had slipped onto the floor. He knelt and bent down to peer under the cot.

There was a small pouch that had fallen. Curious, Cullen reached out and pulled the small sack towards him. He undid the loose tie that bound it shut and looked inside. Vials of Lyrium. There had to be at least seven here, all unused. But what was she doing with these? Had she been hoarding them? Every Templar developed an addiction to Lyrium, but there was a small number whose cravings could never be satiated. Not for very long anyway. However, it was rather easy for another Templar to sense large quantities of Lyrium within the more severe addicts. He had not sensed it in her at all. Which meant..._what_, exactly?

She hadn't been taking it.

The implications hit him hard and his heart began to pound faster. Lyrium gave them the ability to withstand spells that could weaken or even kill an ordinary person. It was an internal shield, in a way. It also made them capable of dispelling certain forms of magic. Without it, and against blood mages...

Cullen stumbled to his feet and ran out of the room.

* * *

><p>The man held his staff threateningly in front of him with one hand. The other shielded the woman behind him protectively.<p>

"You take one more step, Templars, and I will turn you both to ashes. Think you can take me down before I set this place on fire? Try it. Just try it. _Give me a reason to burn you_." the Mage warned.

Adric, attempting to take control of the situation, lowered his longsword and brought down his shield. "We have no intentions of hurting her," he explained. "We just want to sit down and have a nice chat."

"The last time someone brought a weapon to the table in the name of _discourse_, blood was spilled and lives were lost." he snarled. "I have no reason to believe the word of a _Templar_."

"Then let your friend go," Evangeline spoke up. "What has she got to do with any of this?"

The apostate's face twisted in hate. "So you can use her as a bargaining chip? You think I don't know how you work? The minute I let her go, you'll put a sword to her throat." The woman sobbed quietly behind him.

"I swear it, I will _not_ harm her." stated Adric.

"I won't be taken for a fool any longer. She stays with me."

"It appears that we are at an impasse then, no?" remarked Adric; trying to keep his voice even and somewhat friendly.

"A trade, then," suggested Evangeline suddenly.

Adric shot a glance in her direction. What was she doing? They were never to barter with apostates, let alone blood mages.

She tried to ignore him and continued. "_Look_. We're going to be standing here all evening at this rate. You don't trust us. So let us give you a reason to. I'm going to put aside my weapon now, and walk to that corner there. With my hands up."

"Why the _hell _would you do that?" questioned the man warily.

"You let her go and I'll be your bargaining chip. And as a Templar, I'm far more valuable than a peasant girl. You _do _realize that there are more Templars coming, right? They'll be here soon – I assure you," she lied. "And they won't be as merciful as we are. You think they'll hesitate to kill the pair of you just because she's an innocent bystander?" She gave a derisive snort. "They won't come here to bargain. They won't come here to negotiate. You apostates slaughtered their colleagues. Their _friends_. They're coming here for vengeance."

"And what makes you two so different?"

Adric swallowed. The mage was finally listening. He didn't know what hare-brained scheme Evangeline was concocting, but he decided to trust her and play along. "We only just arrived two days ago. From Redcliffe. We haven't lost anyone...yet."

Evangeline nodded in agreement, not taking her eyes off the man. "With me as your captive, a fellow Templar – that might make them considerably more amenable to reason. What do you say?"

In moments that seemed to endure for an eternity, the man turned his head slightly to address his companion. "Now when I say go, you run. You don't stop for anything, you hear me? _Just run_." And then, to Evangeline, "Put your sword and shield on the floor. Kick it away from your friend."

She did as she was told.

"Take off your armor."

She hesitated; she hadn't counted on him thinking that far ahead. But it was too late to change her mind. The armor fell to the floor with several clanks.

"Now move slowly to that corner with your hands where I can see them," he barked.

In nothing but a shirt and trousers, Evangeline followed his instructions and soon stood where he had commanded her.

After eying Evangeline cautiously for several more seconds; "Run, Ophelia. Just go! _Now!_" He shoved the woman away from him as she stumbled, weeping, out into the night.

While the woman made a swift exit, Evangeline winked at Adric. She raised her right arm slightly higher and allowed for the cuff of her sleeve to slide down a fraction. Something glinted briefly in the lamplight, before she hastily covered it up. Adric gave her the slightest of smiles.

The mage turned and glowered at Adric, breathing heavily. He stepped sideways in Evangeline's direction and pointed his wooden staff at her neck. This close to the weapon, she noticed a blade attached to its tip. She would be burned _and_ gutted if they didn't resolve this soon. And here she thought being a Templar would be dull.

"You wanted to talk? So talk!" the man shouted to Adric.

"Yes. Alright. I...what exactly is it that you want?"

The mage let out a bitter laugh. "All the fighting, all the abuse and the death and you _still_ can't figure out what we want?" He paused to catch his breath. "_We want our fucking freedom! _We want normal lives where we can love _who_ we want, _when_ we want! We want to be respected as human beings! We want – "

Evangeline lunged and thrust her dagger into the apostate's shoulder. In the scuffle, he stumbled forward and the staff's blade sliced the skin on her neck. Adric took advantage of the confusion and ran towards them to subdue the mage. But the man was ready for him. He shoved his staff in Adric's direction and sent the young Templar flailing backwards onto the cabin's wall. The wood immediately splintered - whimpering and groaning as it did so. Adric slid to the floor with his eyes shut.

Evangeline, clutching her throat with one hand, snarled as she closed in on her assailant – dagger at the ready.

Adric, still reeling from the blow, watched in morbid fascination as she circled the mage and attempted to cut off his retreat. The mage held one hand in the air and began an incantation. He was about to cast a spell.

Adric's knees weren't quite ready to stand, so he shouted in Evangeline's direction. "_Dispel it!_"

She stretched her hand forward to do as she was told and then yanked it back as a slow, horrified realization hit her.

Adric finally understood what was going on. Without the Lyrium coursing through her veins, she was defenseless against any and all spells that he would surely cast. _You damnable idiot_, thought Adric.

The mage, as injured and angry as he was, had caught on too. He summoned mana to form an invisible yet large fist that cut through the air and sent her sliding across the room. His anger unabated, he advanced towards her. She shuffled to get back up on her feet.

_No_, thought Adric weakly, as he raised his hand and tried to cleanse the area of magic himself. It worked to a certain extent, as whatever spell the apostate had conjured only served to unbalance her for a moment.

Realizing this, the mage bellowed in rage and charged at her. He shoved the blade into her stomach. She let out an agonized yell and clutched at him as she fell backwards. But in mid-fall, Evangeline had managed to put one hand behind his neck. She pulled his face towards her and, with an immense effort, stabbed the mage right in the soft skin beneath his chin. She worked in the blade as far as she could manage. The weapon must have sliced open his carotid, as a spray of blood soon showered across her face.

They both slammed into the floor and lay still.

* * *

><p>The dog, its brown snout close to the ground, yanked him to the right. It snuffled its way through forest detritus and led him over yet another hill.<p>

As twilight descended, the hound's stalwart presence relieved him somewhat. He would catch hell from Gregoir once the Knight Commander discovered that Cullen had absconded with one of his precious dogs, but he had a feeling that stealing the dog would be the lesser issue here.

_Consequences_. Every damnable action had consequences. For Gregoir, for himself and now for Evangeline as well.

Anger bubbled within him. It seemed to displace apprehension and dread, because the thought of... _No_. When he found her he would yell at her like he'd never shouted at anyone in his life. Her inabilities due to lack of Lyrium crippled both her and Adric. How could she have been so naïve, so immature and thoughtless so as to jeopardize her companion's life?

_Or, more accurately, do you mean how could she not think of what this would do to you?_

But everything would be fine. Everything would be okay. He would just make her aware of her own stupidity and then...and then, he decided, he would tell her how he felt.

The dog let out a high-pitched bark.

Cullen saw the cabin below and ran towards it.

* * *

><p>Cullen kicked open the door with his sword pointed ahead of him. He swept his eyes over the poorly lit interior until the landed on a slumped form against the wall.<p>

_Adric_.

Cullen examined the young Templar and put two fingers on his neck. He was relieved to feel a pulse. The injured man had a nasty cut on his temple, but other than that he seemed to be alright. He slapped Adric lightly on the face. "Adric. Adric – wake up, can you hear me?"

The Templar's eyes fluttered open. He stared up at Cullen's visage and gave a weak smile. "Well, aren't _you_ a pretty one?"

Cullen ignored him. "Where's Evie?"

In an instant, the smile was gone and Adric's face grew pale. He staggered to his feet with Cullen's help and stumbled towards two prostrate bodies in a darkened corner. The mage was lying on top her with an arm awkwardly extended onto the floor.

_Maker_, no, thought Cullen.

"Help me get him off her." said Adric.

With trembling hands, that he tried in vain to steady, the pair lifted the limp body aside. Evangeline lay there, terribly still. The blade from the mage's staff had snapped and half of its shard protruded from her abdomen.

_No, no, no. Not like this. Please, not like this_, wailed Cullen inwardly.

There was blood on her face, in her hair, her neck... "I don't..." groaned Cullen as he teetered backwards.

Adric caught him. He looked at the distraught man. "It's not all her blood. Do you hear me, Templar? It's not all hers. She got him somehow and they fell together. Just stay here a minute."

Cullen watched in panicked silence as Adric bent over her limp form. A minute disguised as an hour followed.

"She's alive." he called out.

Cullen rushed forward as Adric continued. "I'm not sure how deep the blade went in, but the bleeding seems to have stopped. Here, give me a rag," Cullen fumbled about for a handkerchief and handed to him. "You're going to want to either wash or burn this afterwards," said Adric as he wiped most of the dried blood off her face. On closer examination, Adric noticed that there were no injuries to her face, save for a gash across her neck. But it wasn't too deep.

"Now," Adric went on, "find me some clean cloth and soak it in this." He handed Cullen a small poultice. "It's an antiseptic. You are going to have to pull that blade out of her. That could start the bleeding back up again, so I'm going to put pressure on the wound until it stops. Do you think you can manage that?"

Cullen nodded.

* * *

><p>A solid, exhausting hour later, Adric stepped away from his patient and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Cullen remained by Evangeline's side and looked up at his companion.<p>

"Not a bad job for someone who's not a healer, eh? Now if only I could cure this throbbing headache." said Adric with a grim smile.

"Will she be alright?"

Adric regarded Cullen with some amusement. "I think she'll make it. Although once she's up and about, I intend to kill her myself. But for the moment, yes, she's quite safe."

"We should take her back," said Cullen.

Adric agreed and moved forward so as to pick up and carry her unconscious form.

Cullen held his hand out and motioned for him to stop. "I..._please_, let me. I've got her."

In one movement he gingerly lifted her up, propped her head against his chest and followed Adric out into the night.


	10. Longer Than We Should Admit

**Author's note:**

Bucket-loads of thank yous to **Ryoko Metallium** (who is going to put out an Inquisition fic of her own soon, will post details as soon it's up), **Gil Shalos1**, **RBurger**, **ExcidiumHawke** and **Tokugawa Blitzer** for reading and reviewing. You guys are a powerful incentive for this story's continuation.

A little more fleshing-out of Adric's character in this chapter. For those of you who did notice, he is similar to Dorian in many respects. I've head-canoned that this is one of the reasons for why my Inquisitor forms a bond with him. However, while there will be similarities I hope to eventually draw on differences as well.

Been working on this chapter for three days. Hope it's worth it and thanks for reading!

* * *

><p><strong>Longer Than We Should Admit<strong>

A peal of thunder rolled across the night sky just as they approached the outskirts of the forest. The ground beneath them trembled, betraying the close proximity of the storm. Adric, holding the dog's leash in one hand, brought his other free hand to his temple, and massaged it gently. The pain flooded in waves.

He halted abruptly, causing Cullen – in possession of Evangeline's limp body – to almost collide into him.

Fat drops of rain – reasonably interspaced – splashed across their heads, faces and began to chill any exposed skin.

"Do you believe in the Maker, Cullen?" came Adric's voice in the darkness.

"I suppose..._yes_," said Cullen hesitantly.

"Well. It would appear that He is in cahoots with every element arrayed against us tonight." The gaps between falling drops of water decreased. _Significantly_. "We're not going to make it back to the Tower in this mess," explained Adric as his voice grew in crescendo parallel to the roar of rain.

Cullen bent his head down in an attempt to shelter Evangeline's bandaged form. It proved a fruitless endeavor.

"This way!" called out Adric. "I remember seeing an overhang on the way here."

* * *

><p>The overhang Adric had noticed several hours earlier turned out to be a cave. After ensuring that the cavern didn't lead to a den of starving wolves or other voracious beasties, Cullen placed Evangeline down gently, and laid her sleeping head on his lap. Adric tied the dog up securely to sturdy roots that had permeated the cave's rocky interior and stepped out briefly to search for some dry kindling.<p>

Ten minutes later, he stepped back in, soaking wet. He shook his arms repeatedly to rid himself of excess water. He knelt down and did his damnest to get a spark going with what parched forest detritus he could acquire. A fragment of luck was on his side; as the spark took, and – encouraged by Adric's puffs of air – flickered to life in precious heat and flame.

"Remind me to add this to the ever-growing list of I-owe-yous that our precious Evie will have to foot."

Cullen gazed at him with tired eyes and smiled despite himself.

"How are you holding up, my fellow Templar?" asked Adric.

"As fine as could be expected, I suppose."

Adric sat himself down with a sigh of relief. He jostled about momentarily – attempting to coax something out of his back pocket. The object finally in hand, he thrust it out in Cullen's direction. "A small flask of brandy. It's yours. None for me, thank you. One sip of that and this blasted migraine will have me on my knees."

Cullen accepted it warily. "I don't know if I should..."

"Oh, for pity's sake. You could do with a stiff drink. Especially after tonight."

His companion kept the flask by his side, reluctant to imbibe its contents.

"_So_. You keep that handy because...?" inquired Cullen. Templars were a disciplined lot. Especially during their nascent years of training. They couldn't do much without a superior's explicit consent. No fraternization, socialization, and _exclusively_ no consumption of alcohol while on duty. In the firelight, Cullen noticed the scowl that crept across Adric's face.

"I usually reserve liquor for moments such as these. However, you'll forgive me if I didn't anticipate being flung halfway across a room, have my head concussed by a psychotic apostate and watch my only and closest friend get impaled in the stomach." And then he glanced down sheepishly. "I apologize. That was...unworthy of me. I suppose, if I was to be perfectly candid with you, I have had worse moments."

Cullen raised his eyebrows.

"Shocking, isn't it?" chuckled Adric. "It's true though, and don't breathe a word of it to your paramour," he nodded at a sleeping Evangeline.

" – she isn't my – "

Adric rolled his eyes. "_Oh please_. Now do let me continue. Where was I?"

"You've had worse moments...?" suggested Cullen, eager for the conversation to shift from that of his and Evangeline's relationship.

"Ah yes. How much has our dear trouble-maker told you about me?"

"That you're a very competent Templar, you've given the Order two and a half years of your life and that you've been a very good friend to her when she needed it."

Adric snorted. "Well. That's kinder than I'd expected. Has she told you about my sexual preferences?"

Cullen swallowed. "Your...uh..._what_, sorry?"

Adric slowed his pronunciation down – as if addressing a young child. He took trouble to enunciate each syllable. "My...sexual...preferences."

"Uh...no. She might have left that out."

The storm bellowed in the midst of sheets of rain. Lighting tore towards the ground, casting eerie flashes of intense light into the cave. The dog, ill at ease as the weather intensified, started whining. Adric moved nearer to the creature and started stroking it. The human contact seemed to have reassured it somewhat, as it settled down and placed its head in Adric's lap. Adric fondled its ears absently.

"I prefer the company of men." Adric leaned his weary head against the rocky wall behind him. "Born that way. Didn't choose it. Not that it should be a crime either way, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. My father caught me cavorting with the gardener's son when I was thirteen. We weren't doing anything...untoward. Just stealing a kiss." Adric ran a hand across his fatigued countenance. "So, it was '_off to the Templars with you_,' as if my being amongst dozens of other athletic, attractive young men could suppress adolescent urges. But that's how he pegged me down, you see. With the shame of it. My interest in boys was a disgrace. He was ashamed, Mother was ashamed...the way you heard him tell it, our entire family tree – the deceased included – were writhing around in agony with the humiliation of it all."

"I'm...sorry," was all Cullen could offer.

"I don't know why on earth _you've_ become my confessional. But...on second thought," he got up, stretched out and snatched the flask of brandy at Cullen's side. He screwed open its cap and took a large swig. He sat back down. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he went on. "Oh, _fuck_ the bloody migraine. See what I mean? Sometimes you have these _terrible_ moments that make you want to swipe the drink from another poor soul's hands."

"I had no idea..." began Cullen. "Did you love your friend? The one your father caught you with?"

Adric let out a dry chuckle. "No. It was the infatuation of youth." And then he looked away. "That's not to say that I didn't love...anyone."

"Who did you care for, then?"

Adric took another gulp of brandy. "I'm assuming we're on mums-the-word-that's-our-motto territory, correct?"

"_What?_"

"Secrets, my man! _Secrets!_" he rolled his eyes. "I solemnly swear and all that sort of thing."

"Of course. You have my word."

"Now what was the question? _Who did I care for?_ I believe the more applicable question would be – who _do_ I care for. A mage, as a matter of fact. Who also happens to occupy the same residence that your Evangeline and I do."

"Oh."

"Quite." Adric pointed at the flask. "Do you want any more of this?"

Cullen shook his head and gestured for him to help himself. Adric drained the canteen's contents in one go. "Warms that cockles of my heart – that does. So yes. The mage. Who I will refrain from referring to as _the mage_, because he's so much more than that. His name is Peter, is a year my junior and is quite the expert when it comes to deciphering dwarven runes. He also does this funny little thing with his nose when he's deep in thought, but let's not go into that."

"Does he...know? About how you feel about him, I mean?"

Adric's usual effusive self grew silent. Cullen indulged him. Finally, Adric glanced up from his reverie and grinned. "So you're _him_, eh?"

"What?"

"The one she talks about. Or rather, _doesn't_ talk about."

"I don't know..."

"Pumping a best friend for information is a duty I take seriously. Now, I know there's Alec – "

Cullen instinctively held up his hand. "Stroud? Alec Stroud? She and him...?"

Adric crinkled his brow. "You know the chap? Well, I hope you're not fast friends with him because he's not really a good fit for her. Personally, I think they're too much alike. But Evie does as Evie likes, and both of us can attest to that. And yes, I suppose they are together." And on seeing Cullen's face fall, Adric placed a hand on his chest in mock surprise. "So you _do_ care for her."

"No, no! I mean I do, but only as a friend."

"Methinks you doth protest too much. And so did she, in fact! I once asked her if anyone else caught her eye and she shut up – quick as a clam. Do you know how difficult it can be sometimes to get her to stop talking? Oh, and one day I caught her looking at that stuffed bear she carries everywhere with the most lovesick grin on her face. She told me her sister gave it to her. But I knew. I knew that no _relative_ of hers gave her that bear. And if they did, she and I would have to have a solid sit-down and discuss the pitfalls of inbreeding."

Cullen looked down at Evangeline. Her eyes remained closed and she was slumbering quite peacefully. Fatigued as he was, he felt the warm stirrings of hope within him. He resisted the impulse to brush a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Cullen.

"Because I know. Because I know what it feels like to long for someone and have every rule in the book tell you that you can't. That they're off limits. I'm restrained not only by the law that Templars and Mages can never be friends, let alone lovers...but also by my gender. Everyone looks the other way if I want to have a casual fling, but when I crave something more _meaningful_ – that's when the word pariah tends to get bandied about. Wouldn't life be so much easier if we liked the people we were _supposed_ to like? Maker, this brandy really _has_ gone to my head, hasn't it?"

"What happened with Peter?" questioned Cullen softly.

"Ah. Peter. Peter was made tranquil. I'm not quite sure why. No one ever tells you _why_. I suspect that it could have been because of me, but I was never reprimanded, never censured. But the Peter I knew..._before_, that Peter loved me as much as I did him. And for the short time that it lasted, it was beautiful. When I lost Peter – well, I needn't tell you how _that_ felt."

"Why didn't you leave the Templars?"

"Because of him, of course. He's still there. Continuing in dreary monotony, but at least I can watch over him. And then that idiot of a friend came along," Adric gestured at Evangeline. "Woke me up a bit. Got me to stop feeling so sorry for myself. Also nearly got me killed today."

Cullen observed Adric with a newfound sensitivity. "You stayed behind – because of him? That's very...commendable."

"Oh, I can't take all the credit for that. There was a soupçon of guilt involved." Adric's voice tapered into a quiet murmur – barely audible against the downpour outside. "And I suppose, I must love him still. Or maybe it's hope. Hope that he'll suddenly remember what love felt like, remember me. _Us_."

Cullen sat there, his emotions at odds with one another. He'd always taken his Templar duties seriously. When he joined the Order, its doctrines were imparted in absolute blacks and whites. Here's what you could do. And here's what you couldn't. There were no shades of grey, no wishy-washy maybes for a distracted student to traipse into. It was acceptable at the beginning. But as they matured and grew exposed to the grim sensibilities that encompassed life, use of that doctrine seemed antiquated, even absurd at times. The very least the Order could do was to acknowledge such discrepancies and perhaps even counsel their fledglings. But obedience superseded morals. So it was in the past, and so it would be in the future.

Cullen had no words of sympathy or sage advice to disclose. But he was immensely disconcerted by the pain Adric had exposed. It was clear that the man disguised it with a strength Cullen himself didn't think he could pull off.

"I don't know what to say," was the best he could come up with.

"I didn't pour my heart out to you for sympathy's sake." Adric grunted. "Give me more credit than that. Consider it a life lesson from a bitter young man who'll most likely end up growing up into a bitter old one. _Look_. Your path and Evangeline's have crossed not once, but twice, in this lifetime. Don't sit around waiting for a hat trick. She clearly adores you as much as you do her. It's rather nauseating, in fact. So for pity's sake, _tell the girl_. Oh, and if you're _not_ the chap who gave her that bear, just forget my advice and pretend that this conversation never happened."

* * *

><p>Knight Commander Gregoir pushed open the hefty doors to the Harrowing Chamber and paused momentarily to catch his breath. For a man over five scores in age, he was athletic, but climbing five flights of winding stairs was no trivial task – even for him.<p>

A few servants and some of the surviving mages were scrubbing the floors, pillars and walls of what once was a commanding and imposing hall. Mages who were prepared to officially join the ranks of the Circle of Magi faced one final test here, and they did not call it the Harrowing for whimsicality's sake. They had to journey into the Fade, and avoid becoming abominations while defeating demons who hungered after their mortal souls. The chamber's architecture was deliberately grim, anything light and airy would defeat its purpose.

But what Uldred, or the _thing_ that was Uldred, had done to this place had reduced it to unhallowed proportions. Darkened bloodstains had seeped into some of the tiles. Servants were using strong combinations of acidic concoctions to leech it out. Residual ash – the mages speculated that these were the destroyed remnants of Fade spirits – had to be swept up and discarded of properly. Fleshy, bulbous sacks still hung at the base of certain pillars.

Gregoir's shoulders sagged. There was a reason he had left this hall to be fixed up last.

A mage approached one of the sacks and tentatively poked at it with a stick. It yielded slightly. She then poked it harder, which broke a portion of its surface and caused a sickly, yellow fluid to ooze out. The discharge must have been pungent as well, because the mage immediately stepped back as she groaned and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Uh...let's not poke and prod that which we know so little about yet, yes?" said Gregoir.

"I wish I'd taken your advice earlier," agreed the mage. "How to best go about getting rid of it though?"

"What does First Enchanter Irving have to say about it?

"I didn't want to trouble him. He's having a hard enough time trying to return what's left of us back to normalcy."

Ten-foot poles were certainly out of the question, realized Gregoir. "I say burn it. A localized fire should turn it to ash. The heat might take care of any contaminants as well."

The mage nodded.

The sound of running feet behind them echoed against the walls of the circular chamber.

"Commander," called out one of the surviving Templars, "I have some of today's reports ready. Sorry about them being late, I – " The Templar, not having ventured into the Harrowing Chamber following Uldred's demonic vandalism, began to gag at the sight of it all.

"Perhaps we'd better take this to my office." recommended Gregoir as he placed a deliberate hand on the young man's back and guided him down the stairs and out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Any better?" asked a seemingly unaffected Gregoir as he pushed the bucket to a darkened corner of his office with his foot.<p>

The young man straightened up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I...yes. Thank you."

"There was a reason I kept most of the Templars out of that chamber, Cal. At least until we could get it cleaned up."

"I see that now, Ser. My apologies."

"So what was so important that made you want to break one of my rules?"

"I didn't deliberately break it, Ser. I just...forgot. Anyway, Cullen and two of Biedrin's Templars returned just this morning." explained Cal.

Gregoir rose from his seat, and moved so as to lean against his desk. He folded his arms across his chest. "Is that so. And what of my hound?"

"Cullen brought it back. It's in the kennels as we speak. He said that he needed to borrow the dog to track down the other Templars."

"What for?"

"Said they were both in great danger and needed to be warned."

Gregoir snorted. "It's a runaway blood mage. Of course they were in danger. But they're both competent Templars. Biedrin wouldn't send them here if he didn't think so."

"He also said that if they'd waited until morning, the two could have died."

"And do you believe him?"

"I...think so, Ser – yes. One of them, the girl, she came in unconscious and wounded. The other one's got a nasty cut on his head. They're in the infirmary now."

"And Cullen?"

"Got there in the nick of time, Ser."

"I mean – _physically_. Is he okay, any wounds, bruises?"

"Not that I could see, Ser."

Gregoir looked away; distracted. "Fine. Fine. You said you had other reports to discuss?"

"Just the usual. Damage and progress reports on some of the infrastructure repairs."

"Leave them on my desk. I'll take a gander later. Dismissed."

Cal turned for a split second before walking out. "Uh...I know it's not my place, Ser, but Cullen – I think he's been through a lot in the last few weeks. Never was much of a talker, but he always went out of his way to make me feel welcome when I first joined. Had a kind word for a lot of us here. A lot of that's gone in him. He's gotten kind of, well, _broody_. Past few days though – he's been a bit perkier. Today as well – although he's a bit pale. Seems to want something to do, I think. To keep him occupied."

"Are you telling me I don't know how to look after my own Templars?" questioned Gregoir, lowering his brows.

"Not at all, Ser. Just something to think about, I suppose."

* * *

><p>"<em>Sharlto drew the back of his hardened and calloused hand across his weary brow. His piercing blue eyes began to shimmer like the surface of the Waking Sea on a mild summer's day, as tears welled-up inside them. He had arrived too late to save the poor soul before him. So much death and destruction. First his family and now his friends. <em>

_How much more was the Maker going to make him endure? He had picked up a sword – much like Andraste had done centuries ago – to avenge his kin. His vengeance complete, he had laid his sword to rest again and took up his former duties in the Chantry. And now, in a cruel twist of fate, death had once again begun to seek him out. First Horus. Now Ghen. They had known one another for how long? Two decades, at least. Sharlto drew his hand against his weary brow once more._

'_Sharlto?" said a sultry feminine voice behind him._

_He turned to see Philomena's voluptuous silhouette in the light of the doorway. Her immaculate, golden tresses fell to her curved hips. Maker preserve him, for as she drawled out his name, he could envision her sensuous lips moving with every incantation of every syllable therein. He could sense her tongue – _

Oh, for pity's sake – who the _hell_ writes this drivel?" cried Cullen as he slammed the book shut and examined the back jacket in irritation. "Varric Tethras? Well, you won't be selling many more books in the future, my friend. At least not to me."

"There's a sequel," came a quiet voice from the bed in front of him. "_Chantry Priests III: Days of Judgment_. I'm going to have to ask Elena to mail that one to me."

Cullen put the book down and smiled. "If I had known that reading this tripe to you out loud would have woken you up..."

"It's not tripe!" Evangeline said in mock outrage. "Just wait till you get to page ninety-five. That's when Sharlto meets Burkel, the dwarf-giant. Which technically doesn't make him a dwarf any longer... But anyway, Sharlto makes an Andrastian out of him and then falls into a love triangle with this Elven archer. It breaks Philomena's heart and – "

"I trust you're feeling better?" asked an amused Cullen.

"Did Adric put you up to this?"

"What – the reading? No. This was of my own making. Although if Sharlto has to wipe his weary brow one more time..."

Evangeline reached out her hand to him. A little at a loss at what to do, Cullen hesitated before placing his own in hers. She squeezed it gently. "Adric told me what happened. I owe you both my life. You mostly, I suppose. And I certainly don't deserve friends like you both."

His eyes ran over her face – she was considerably pale, her lips were cracked and dry. He got up and brought her some water. He helped heave her up gently so that she could drink it.

He sat back down as she spoke. "I'm sorry. About what I did earlier. And...if you feel the need to yell at me, I shall take it like a champ. Heaven knows I deserve it." she said.

As he stared at her, he felt a warmth well up in his chest. She had always been so matter-of-fact about things. Her readily accepting the blame where blame was due only served to make him proud. "I was going to – before. When I found out what you'd done. But Adric beat me to it. He deserved that opportunity – after all, he's the one with the welt on his head. I don't have a scratch on me."

"When I woke up earlier, I saw him standing over me with his arms crossed. He smiled, asked me if I was doing better and then kissed me on the forehead. I thanked him and _boy_, you should have seen him go. The transition from friend-Adric to demon-Adric was rather jarring. He's got a tongue like a whip once you let him roar. Not that I didn't _deserve_ any of it, but he can make a murderer cringe if he's got a mind to."

Cullen chuckled.

"So you didn't tell Gregoir? About the Lyrium?" asked Evangeline.

He shook his head. "Not unless you keep refraining from taking it. No need to get expelled from this place for one bad decision."

"But Adric could have died!"

"Yes," admitted Cullen, "he could have. But he didn't. And maybe, this way, you'll be less reckless. Maybe you'll grow up a bit. Besides, Adric likes having this hold over you." He smiled wryly. And then, on a more serious note, "I do have to ask you though...why _did_ you stop taking it?"

She bit her lip. "I think, no, I _know_ I'm impulsive. I also tend to get hooked onto things far too easily. My joining the Templars wasn't entirely my decision. At least, in the beginning it wasn't. And I suppose not taking the lyrium was a ridiculous act of rebellion. I didn't wish to be wholly leashed to the Order. Things have changed now. I'm starting to think that maybe I could be more here. As a Templar."

Cullen said nothing.

Evangeline looked guiltily up at him. "So...uh...whose decision was it? Ultimately? To not tell Gregoir?"

"I wanted Adric to decide, initially. But he said it was up to us both. We discussed it and this is what it came down to."

"Thank you again. I owe you both, well...everything. I'll do better." She drew an invisible x on her chest with her index finger. "Cross my sheepish little heart."

Before he realized what he was doing, he took her hand in his and kissed it. As he bent over her hand, the scent of him – fresh, and clean and...something elusive – infiltrated her senses. This close, she noticed the bronze stubble on his cheek, the lopsided smirk as he drew away, the amber tinge in his eyes. Evangeline felt more attentive to another aspect of him and its existence seemed to exceed the bounds of friendship.

At this realization, her face turned beet red. Her reaction seemed to both surprise and please Cullen greatly. So much, in fact, that he picked up the book beside him, raised amused brows for her benefit and turned to the page that he'd left off.

"_He could sense her tongue moisten her parched lips as she spoke. He could smell her perfume_..."

As Cullen read on, she closed her eyes and coloured even more. She even made a weak attempt to suppress a smile.

Huh. Maybe Adric was right after all.

* * *

><p><strong>One Week Later<strong>

Cullen raised the longsword – which glittered in the afternoon sun – and struck at the wooden dummy with all his might. The wood creaked but didn't splinter. He massaged his weakened biceps. Several weeks of very little physical activity were taking its toll. And if his strong arm had grown sluggish, what then of the rest of him?

Putting the longsword aside, he lifted his white shirt up to his chest. He placed a concerned hand on his abdomen. Did...his stomach look a little paunchy? He sucked in his gut and let it relax. _Oh dear Maker, yes. Quite possibly_.

"Concerned about our appearance, are we?" said Gregoir.

Cullen started and dropped the flap of his shirt back into place.

Gregoir grinned. "Nice work rescuing Biedrin's Templars."

"Uh...I...thank you."

"Of course I know that the story you told our young Calahan was all rubbish."

Cullen fumbled. Adric was the superior storyteller. Cullen couldn't lie if his life depended on it. Which was probably why Gregoir was here; catching him off-guard on his lonesome. Whatever tale the masterful Adric had weaved for Gregoir could never contest Cullen's equivalent. But how was he to protect Evangeline's massive blunder? A half-truth then, realized Cullen. Surely he could accomplish that.

Gregoir stepped closer to the wooden dummy and squinted at it. "Not even a dent on it," he murmured.

All efforts at concealment temporarily forgotten, Cullen moved forward to defend his work. He pointed at a gash along the counterfeit's upper right shoulder. "I did though. Right there."

"That's the grain of the wood, Rutherford."

"I...yes, Ser." Cullen's shoulders slumped.

"I know why you went out there last night." stated Gregoir.

Okay. Deep breath. Here goes. "Yes, Ser, and I – "

"You want some action. Sitting around here doing nothing reminds you of what happened. Menial labour isn't going to cut it for you, is it?"

He deliberated in silence for a few shocked seconds. Perhaps he wouldn't have to lie after all. _Take it!_ cried a panicked voice within. "Yes, Ser. That's exactly it."

"You tried to tell me yesterday. I should have listened then."

A beat.

Gregoir put his hands on his hips. "Come with me."

* * *

><p>Evangeline was the last to enter Gregoir's study. As she walked in, the Knight-Commander was in the process of lighting a second wall sconce. Adric and Cullen turned as she pushed the door open. Gregoir blew out a match and took the familiar place of leaning against his desk. He handed all three of them a leather-bound stack of vellum.<p>

Adric sifted through its pages. "A report, Ser?"

"A collection of, Adric." Gregoir folded his arms across his chest. "Collated material from a series of reports on Darkspawn. Their weaknesses, hierarchy, weapons of choice. Best we start learning what we can now."

"Templars and demon-slaying – quite possible. Templars and archdemons – not a chance in hell." commented Adric.

Gregoir grunted in contempt. "You _do_ think highly of yourself, don't you? I'm not asking you three to go out and stop a Blight."

"What are you asking us to do?" queried Cullen.

"Some of the villagers from Shepard's Crossing have sighted Darkspawn on the outskirts. They've got precious few guardsmen and no Grey Warden in sight. If their stories are accurate, we're not looking at a horde. Possibly a small group. I want the three of you to head out and make some inquiries. Now," Gregoir scratched his temple, "no heroics from any of you. The village is about a three-day march from here. You get wounded, break a rib, get stabbed in the gut – " he cast a sharp eye on Evangeline – "the best you're going to get is the village healer. And that's not going to be much. You're going to help the villagers should they need it, but if this help includes stopping a swarm of Darkspawn, you're to pull back."

"You want us to _abandon_ them?" asked Cullen.

Gregoir scowled. "I'm not _abandoning_ anyone. I'm sending you there, aren't I? To be perfectly honest, this was bottom-of-the-pile. Chances are that the good people of Shepard's Crossing would have had to fend for themselves.

"But let's get one thing clear. You three are _not_ a rescue crew. If I wanted to send in the like, I'd have chosen some of my more...weathered men. Or what's left of them. I need to know if a rescue is necessary. Shepard's Crossing is about a day's journey north from the nearest, fortified town. And they're certainly not going to spare the men to defend a small number of their isolated countrymen. Especially on account of some vague reports."

Evangeline chewed on her lip. "Okay. So supposing there's a horde. Then what?"

"You travel north to Brunswick. You alert their guard to deal with the issue and then make your way back here. Think you three are up to it or should I return this situation to its original position?"

"Absolutely not," said Cullen. "If you can spare us, then we'll go."

"Uh...there might be a small problem there," ventured Adric.

They all directed their attention towards him.

"Your First Enchanter needs my help questioning some of the recaptured mages. It could take a few weeks, is what he said." Adric shrugged and held his hands up helplessly.

Gregoir massaged the bridge of his nose. What was it that Irving had said to him when the debacle with Uldred was over? _I'm sure we'll be at each throats in no time_. Well. Best to avoid that then.

"Fine." He supposed that one less shouldn't make too much a difference. This was more or less a scouting assignment after all. He assessed Evangeline with narrowed eyes. "How're your injuries?"

"Uh...much better." She glanced sideways at Adric, more concerned with his uncharacteristic reluctance to accompany her. He didn't meet her eyes.

"Fine." said a weary Gregoir. "Read those reports tonight. And I mean, _read_, not skim. One detail about your enemy could make all the difference. I want you both on your way by tomorrow morning. Now if you'll excuse me, I have several more pressing matters to attend to. And shut the door behind you."

* * *

><p>Cullen lay on his bed, hands folded across his chest. Utterly awake, he gazed up at the ceiling at nothing in particular. For the first time in a long while, he longed for sleep. But how could he? The thought of spending three days, alone...with <em>her<em>. He was both exhilarated and petrified. Three days. _Maker_. A lot could happen in three days. And then there was the journey back.

For the time being, all nightmares of past events ceased to make way for new – albeit significantly more pleasant – anxieties. He was sure they would return, but this anticipation, it felt..._good_.

_Are you happy, then? To have time with her? Alone?_

He supposed he was.

_But what would that mean? For the Templars, your future?_

He didn't know.

A voice in the darkness nearly jolted him out of bed. "You're welcome."

"Adric!" cried Cullen as he shot upright.

"This is the part where you say, _thank you, Adric, for being so considerate_. _Your care for my well-being humbles me._"

"What did you...oh," recognition dawned on him. "_Andraste have mercy_. Irving doesn't need your help. You set me up."

"Correction: I set the both of you up. And it was only a half-truth. Irving didn't need my help then, but he does now. As I've so kindly volunteered."

Cullen grew flustered and ran a hand through his blond hair. "What have you done? What am I supposed to do? Three days! Alone for three days..."

"Well, at the rate _you_ were going, our minds would have succumbed to geriatric decay. I swear, you _do_ need a good poking and prodding on occasion, don't you?"

But Cullen had stopped listening. Longing her from afar was one thing. This was an entirely novel concept altogether. His hands had begun to perspire. What if she disliked his company? He was certainly not Stroud. He lacked that charisma, that masculine pull.

"Andraste's knickers!" said Adric; annoyed. "Experiencing a wax build-up in your ears, Templar?

"I...what?"

"I said – _she's as nervous as you are!_"

"I fail to see how that makes anything better," remarked Cullen.

"Dear Maker." And then, Adric reached out and slapped the side of Cullen's head. "You idiot! What has she got to be nervous about, eh? _Think!_"

"Three days. Alone?" ventured Cullen meekly.

"Stop repeating that! If she didn't have any feelings for you, you _infernal primate_, what would she have to be nervous about?"

"I...oh. _Oh_." His heartbeat slowed. Now curious, "Exactly how nervous?"

"She's been asking me to steal some whiskey for her from the kitchen." replied Adric. "And then she keeps asking about how _you're_ dealing with this new development. I feel like I'm passing notes in school."

Cullen laughed and lay his head back down against the pillow. He could feel his muscles gradually uncoil.

The next few days would prove interesting, there was no doubt about it.


	11. Getting to Know You

**Author's note:**

Thanks as always to the following bunch of terrific people who're reading, reviewing and following this story:

**ExcidiumHawke**, **Tokugawa Blitzer** (do me a solid and check out her Cullen/Trevelyan fic called _Temporary Absolution_ when you've got the time. A brilliant read.), **Gil Shalos1** (she's got a lovely distinct fic about an OC/Cullen romance and is quite the wordsmith), **RBurger** and **Ryoko Metallium**. You guys rock.

I know I'm repetitive when it comes to thanking those who read and review, but I just want you lot to know how much it's appreciated.

* * *

><p><strong>Getting to Know You<strong>

Whatever fanciful adventures she could envision were nullified by the stark realities of nature. Evangeline opened her eyes to a chilling world. Literally. The air was cold and arid. She pulled the blanket up around her neck. It wouldn't be too long before she was to wake and begin daily ablutions, but the cot was warm and cozy. Surely there was little disparity between rising now or an hour later. Sleep weighed heavily against her eyelids and she began to feel them close.

"Aren't you dressed yet?" called out a voice.

She mumbled incoherently. Quite frankly, Adric was a _positive_ thorn in her arse when he wanted to be. How he had always excelled at being an early riser, she couldn't fathom. She shoved a lackadaisical hand in his direction.

His arm prodded her again. _Persistent little devil, wasn't he?_ Considerably annoyed, she grappled with the protruding limb and sank her teeth into it.

He cried out in pain.

"Did you just _bite _me?"

Evangeline groused as wakefulness came upon her. She sat up in bed, lowered her brows and growled at the back of her throat. She felt like Bunty after something much-loved had been withheld from him.

"Did you...did you just _bite_ me?" repeated the voice.

Cor, it didn't sound much like Adric, now did it?

She scrunched her face in confusion. "Sweet dolly bailey. Who're _you?_"

"_It's me – Cullen_."

_Oh dear Maker_. Perhaps apologies were in order. Still partially in the throes of sleep, social niceties lay beyond her. She grunted in response.

"Evie, it's seven o'clock in the morning. We need to get going. Let's get you ready." Cullen examined his forearm. "I think you broke the skin!"

_Snort_.

_Oh, very well._ When confronted with acts of unpleasant drudgery, it was best to get it over with. The quicker the better. She leapt out of bed, blanket close around her, and staggered out of her quarters. With nothing but an over-shirt, a sheet and cotton pants to keep her warm, she wandered into the kitchen and shoved open the side entrance into the morning air.

The sudden drop in temperature, its biting wind and frigid air hit her like a whirlwind.

How the bloody hell was she supposed to take a piss in _this_? Eyes partially shut in denial and defiance, she slammed shut the door to the latrine and promptly conducted her business. Desperate for some heat, Evangeline stumbled back indoors and gasped in grateful heaps of warm air. There would be no bathing in the stream today.

Slinking into the kitchen, she slipped by some of the servants – watching them as they placed pots, which contained several liters of liquid, on braziers. As they bustled about, they paid her little mind assuming that she was another new hire from a village nearby. Evangeline casually sniffed each of the saucepans, and exclusively homed in on one with the least savory odour. Grabbing some thick cloth, she used it to grasp its heated handles and retreated, with equal covertness, to a secluded spot several meters beyond the pissyngholes. The way she saw it, Lord Clonegah might have washed his person thrice every annum, but damned if she would be two days without soap and water.

She stepped into the remnants of what was once an ancient bathhouse and quickly dumped the entire contents of the pan into a half-broken wooden tub. In this frigid weather, hot would soon turn to cold before she knew it. She lathered herself up furiously and reveled in the all too brief embrace of the warm water.

* * *

><p>Evangeline had insulated herself within several layers of clothing. Atop her shirt she wore a light hauberk. Then, she had donned a woolen sweater along with a shawl draped across her neck and shoulders. Two thick socks inserted into sturdy leather boots would hopefully serve to protect her feet from the elements. To complete the ensemble, she had roped a scarf around her neck and the lower half of her face such that only her eyes were visible. She tied a fur-lined laplander securely onto her head with a gloved hand.<p>

_If I can't stay with the bed, then the blasted thing will come with me_.

Evangeline and Cullen stood by the docks waiting for the oarsman to row them from the Tower to the mainland. The bronze light of dawn mingled with the dark night sky. She hoped that the advent of the rising sun would raise temperatures somewhat.

"I'm not even sure if you're the Evangeline Trevelyan I know or some imposter," commented Cullen from her right with considerable mirth in his eyes. "It's a little difficult to tell underneath all of..._that_."

The layered garb prevented Evangeline from being able to turn her neck so she shuffled around awkwardly and narrowed her eyes at him.

He made a deplorable effort at hiding his amusement. Gesturing, he went on. "I mean, look – you can't even bring your arms down to your sides. Just how much _are_ you wearing? Don't they have winters in Ostwick?"

"_This_ isn't winter," she began; her voice sounded muffled through the scarf that obscured her mouth. "_This_ is hell and it has frozen over."

Cullen leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "You know, I'm willing to bet that if I pushed you over right this very minute, you wouldn't be able to get back up on your own. You'd be like a little helpless turtle turned belly-up."

"You wouldn't dare," she retorted, not quite convinced that he was purely joking.

"Evie, the little Templar-turned-Turtle."

She groused and shuffled a few steps away from him. She eyed him warily. "Bloody Ferelden barbarian. Any sudden moves and I'll bite more than just your arm."

He laughed loudly.

* * *

><p>For all her agonizing over chill temperatures, she needn't have worried much. Their trek to lower altitudes had yielded greener flora. Multiple layers of clothing had to be removed and even Cullen – attired in lighter garb – had to dispense of his jacket. Wet pools of sweat stained their shirts as they slogged over streams and rocky terrain.<p>

After several hours, they stopped in a lush clearing. It must have rained the night before as tree trunks and branches were darkened with moisture. Nascent buds and leaves – near to bursting with green – provided a captivating contrast to the browned bark. Lunch was a brief affair as they chewed on dry meats, twice-baked cakes and a small wedge of cheese each.

As they ate, Cullen inquired after her sisters, mother and even Bunty. The familial topic soon meandered into that of his own and he told her of his three siblings as well. Mild nostalgic pangs crossed both their countenances and in unsaid mutual recognition, they spoke of unrelated issues instead. Cullen was surprised to find himself communicating with such ease. On further reflection, he realized that they never really had the opportunity to simply sit down and _talk_. This may have very well been the first time he'd spoken of himself at length. He had imagined that this foray would be chock full of social stumbles; awkward exchanges and even more distressing silences. That wasn't to say that he didn't have his artless moments. He found it difficult to look her in the eyes because each time he did so, his heart would quicken. But the fact that she seemed to have similar troubles delighted him and he fervently hoped that she did so for the same reasons.

Their meal over, Evangeline rose to refill their wineskins with fresh water. She returned just as Cullen had finished putting away their food.

He pulled out a map from his pocket and smoothed the parchment out onto a large rock. "We're making good time." he said. "Come dusk we should be well beyond the river."

"Have you ever been this way before?" asked Evangeline.

"Just up to the river and back. Never ventured farther though." Cullen folded up the map and slung his rucksack onto his shoulder.

"Is it all going to be this green?" Evangeline asked, smiling. "Mind you, not that I'm complaining."

He looked in aesthetic appreciation at the stunning forest canopy above them. "It is beautiful, isn't it? And yes, I should imagine so. We're out of the mountains. Should mostly be flat or downhill from here."

"Any inns along the way or is the night sky to be our roof for tonight?"

"Yes. Two, in fact. Gregoir mentioned that they might provide us with some of the local gossip. Once we're out of the forest, if we stick to the road, we should run into them soon enough. Come on – let's get moving."

* * *

><p>The heavyset door groaned as it was pushed open. Sheets of angled rain beat in through the doorway and as soon as Evangeline and he were indoors, he quickly shoved it shut; relieved to leave the weather outside. Shaking their arms and clothes of excess water, they crossed the wooden floor to the nearest table to the hearth.<p>

_The Speckled Hen_ was the largest inn in the vicinity, but with the great number of people that bustled about, it was difficult to gauge its exact size. Amidst the din of clanking dinnerware, arbitrary chatter and scuffling feet and furniture against wood they had to raise their voices considerably to be heard.

"Bit of a desolate joint, don't you think?" quipped Evangeline with smiling eyes.

Cullen snorted. Masses of people concentrated in a single location was something he strove to avoid at all times. "We're not going to get anything out of staying here," he grumbled.

"Perhaps we should camp out there for tonight then," she began brusquely as she nodded in the direction of the gathering storm. "I've always dreamed of drowning in my sleep."

Cullen exhaled. Evangeline was right. "Oh, alright. But how do you expect to talk to anyone in this clamor?" He grimaced as a loose arm accidentally elbowed his head and quickly ducked as a woman lifted her baby over him, its legs dangling inches from Cullen's ear.

Evangeline suppressed a laugh. He could be such a grouch when he chose, but there was something compelling about it. As if his irascibility was a cover for something softer.

A man from a table behind them reclined in raucous laughter. His chair knocked into Cullen's causing the Templar to jerk forward. "Best of luck getting some service in this madhouse," he said loudly.

"Watch this." She raised her hand in the direction of a gaunt fellow who appeared to be waiting tables. He didn't turn around. She then put two fingers to her mouth and whistled. A few heads turned, his included. As she caught his attention, his weary face drew into a pout. An empty tray in one hand, he ambled over to the pair.

"What can I do yer for?" he asked as he struggled to remain polite.

"Some bread and cheese, please. A pint of ale for me and my friend here too, if you wouldn't mind." said Evangeline as she reached into a pocket and slapped a few coins onto the table.

"Good stuff's gone. We got some heavy cask ale if yer want it. And a few flagons of the lighter stuff."

The man thrust his little finger into his ear and jimmied it about as he waited for Evangeline to decide. As soon as she settled for the cask ale, he removed his finger and wiped its tip on an already-sullied apron. Cullen observed the unsanitary gesture with disgust and snorted.

"Bit busy in here, isn't it?" asked Evangeline.

"Not from hereabouts, are yer?" he replied; studying Cullen and Evangeline a little more closely. "There's a bazaar in Wiltshire. Lots of merchants coming and going. Even had an Antivan in here the other day. The poor sod was a taxid – er...animal stuffer. Brought his little dead _friends_ in here with him. Ghoulish is what that was. Told him he was welcome on my premises but not his damn associates. Say, what're the pair of yer flogging?"

"Nothing. We're just passing through. Heading over to Shepard's Crossing. We have some family there."

His cantankerousness faded and was replaced with a sobered expression. "Best not to go there, lass. A right ruddy mess is what they got on their hands. Unless yer going to get yer family out, I'd stay well away from it."

"Why? What's happening?" questioned Cullen.

"Some of the local girls have gone missing. Got a cousin of mine up there. His girl's gone. We all thought she'd gotten cold feet and done a bunk, seeing as how she was to be married in a few months. But then two more went missing a few weeks later. Heard that they sent some search parties out but didn't find nowt." He shook his head. "Shame. A real shame."

"Haven't they asked for help from any of the neighbouring villages?"

"Sure they have. But we've all got our own problems, ain't we? We got Banns fighting each other on account of what King Loghain's done with their lands. The ruddy blighter's gone and sworn in some new vassals and gave them land that ain't rightfully theirs. Then we got Darkspawn who ain't keen on keeping their fighting down south. News is that with the Grey Wardens dead, the filth will march right into Denerim happy as you please and that'll be the end of Ferelden. With all that on yer doorstep, who's got time to muck about looking for three peasant girls?"

Evangeline glanced up at Cullen whose face looked equally grave. Perhaps the situation was a touch more convoluted than Gregoir had envisioned.

"How long ago did all this start?" asked Evangeline.

The man scrunched his face up in thought. "Not long ago. Delphine went missing about a month and a half back. The other two went missing at the same time about a few weeks ago. Leastways, that's what I remember. By the time news reaches this joint, it could've been touched up a smidge by gossip and what have yer." The scowl returned to his bony face. "Well. Not my place to tell yer where yer can or can't go and I can't stand here chattering all night. Is there anything else I can get yer?"

Cullen massaged the back of his neck. "Yes. Have you got two rooms for the night?"

The man gave a derisive grunt. "Look around yer. It ain't exactly a dead season. We only got the one left. Just gave up two to that litter over there," he pointed in the direction of an exhausted couple attempting to tend to their brood of seven children.

"I...uh," began Evangeline.

"We'll take it." said Cullen, as their server strolled off to attend to his numerous patrons.

* * *

><p>"I'll take the floor," said Evangeline as they opened the door to the cramped room.<p>

A rickety bed lay against the wall at the end of the room. Two candles, one of which had nearly burnt down to pulpy wax stump provided the only light within. There was no lamp in sight. An old mirror, its edges and corners in desperate need of resilvering was hung up next to an aged painting of a man and a goat. A once-white curtain – now a faded cream – flapped against the window sill. The rain had ceased for the moment, but a small puddle of water had pooled on the floor. And a stench that smelled remarkably like...manure infiltrated their nostrils.

Evangeline wrinkled her nose. "Well, _that_ explains why this is the last room left."

Cullen walked up to the open window and peered out. He jerked his thumb in the direction below. "We're right next to the stables. This place is absolutely charming," he said wryly. "And I'll take the floor."

"Well, aren't you chivalrous," she retorted half-irritated and half in jest. "You're the one who has the bad dreams – _you_ take the bed."

"I...I couldn't."

She plonked her rucksack on the floor and kicked it underneath the bed. She was too tired to argue. "Fine."

Eager to ease the tension, Cullen spoke. "What do you make of our illustrious barman's tale?"

She sat on the bed and began to unpin her hair. "Could be partly true. He's got nothing to gain by lying."

"He's a tad gossip-hungry though. I know the like. People of his caliber revel in spreading bad news."

"It's a bit of an odd rumour though, isn't it? _Missing women?_ If I was going to make up a tall tale, I'd give it some glorious embellishments. I'd have some Darkspawn, fling in some of King Cailan's loyalists, a throng of Grey Wardens and some tainted beasties for good measure. Three missing women seems so...well, like it's like one measly piece of a much bigger puzzle."

Cullen smiled. "Maybe he doesn't have as good an imagination as yours."

As she loosened her hair, Cullen's breath caught. He wasn't certain if this was a trick of the waning candlelight but as fatigued as she was, she seemed more striking than ever before. There was something about her natural dark hair and brows, the violet eyes and the mild downward curve of the corners of her mouth...Stroud certainly was a lucky bastard. He found himself wondering if the pair had ever...well, it was Stroud. Certainly he would waste little time in going after what he wanted. The concept pained him more than he cared to admit but thankfully, as the one candle in the room went out, he didn't have to give it much immediate thought.

"Well, that's just – " began Evangeline.

"I'll just pop down and get another one," said Cullen, eager to get out of the room and away from his dangerous musings.

As he shut the door behind him, Evangeline let out a deep breath. Being in this confined space, just the pair of them...what had she gotten herself into? Correction: what had Adric gotten her into? _It's only as awkward as you make it out to be, Evie_, she told herself. Just relax. Just breathe.

But spending this much time with Cullen in such close proximity only served to deepen her respect and admiration for the Templar. He seemed to laugh considerably more when he was around her. And what a laugh it was – sometimes when unrestrained, it came forth as an infectious guffaw. Once, she could have sworn that he'd snorted in mid-chortle. She had endearingly termed it his old-man-laugh and took secret pride in the knowledge that he only seemed to do it around her.

And then there was his self-control and discipline. They were, no doubt, both commendable traits. And having only been with the impulsive Stroud, Cullen's moderations betrayed a maturity she almost envied. The only other person who mirrored it was her Elena. On his good days, he seemed so very stable – a calm center to the storms she would often embroil herself in. And on his bad days, he'd put on his brave face and weather tumultuous emotions as best as he could. He never asked for pity or help. But she could see it in his eyes, as they were not as beguiling as he'd imagined. Dark red circles below them were indicative of painful, nightmare-rife dreams. His lips would purse tighter as well, and his cheeks would be a shade paler than normal. It was tempting to reach out and comfort him whenever possible, but in doing so, she would have to acknowledge feelings she wasn't prepared to handle.

A horse's whinny carried across the wind and into the room. The moon was high, and the night was getting on. Evangeline yawned and stretched. Perhaps a little sleep would help ease her out of these imaginings.

She started to undress and stuffed the clothes – seeped in the day's long journey – into her bag. She was just pulling up her pajamas when the door swung open and Cullen stepped in, holding a light in his hand. Oblivious to her partially naked person, he shut the door carefully behind him.

"If you only knew how many blasted hoops I had to jump through to get us one damnable oil lamp, you would...I..._oh, Maker._" His eyes were glued to her frame. _Sweet Andraste_. _Give me strength._ _It...she was...look away. Look away, you lewd cretin!_ But he continued to stare with widened eyes as she squawked and reached for the nearest bit of cloth – which happened to be the bedspread – to regain what little modesty she had left.

"Turn around!" she screeched.

Mesmerism shattered, he did as commanded. "I...if I...Maker, I'm sorry! I swear I didn't know!"

"Don't you _dare_ turn around until I tell you to!"

"I'm so sorry!"

As quick as she could, she flung the bedspread to the floor and slipped on her nightshirt. It wasn't his fault, it truly wasn't. But she was both mortified and furious. Her cheeks flushed with the shame of it all, she leapt into the bed and pulled the covers up and over her head.

"Evie, can I turn around now?"

"Yes."

"Honestly, I swear I had no idea..."

"I know."

"If you'd only just said – "

"I know. It's not your fault."

"Are you angry at me?"

"_No_."

"You sound angry."

"I'm not angry. Now just _shut up_ and go to sleep."


	12. Petrichor

**Author's note:**

I'm pretty beat, so I'll make this quick. You guys are awesome. Thanks for all the reviews and follows.

Toodles.

* * *

><p><strong>Petrichor<strong>

Cullen lay on the floor to the right of the bed and chased sleep fruitlessly. Try as he might, he couldn't get the image of Evangeline out of his mind. He attempted to recite Chantry scripture in his head, but by the time the second verse rolled around, there she was again. He huffed in irritation. He then summoned the image of a chess board and began to envision playing against his sister on their terrace back in Honnleath. As Mia began flanking his queen, he realized that the distraction was working. At long last, his weary consciousness drifted into the realm of dreams.

_Mia looked exactly as he'd remembered her the day she left. Her short brown hair was cropped tight about her head and lay just beneath her ears. She'd defeated him again. Her face remained deadpan throughout the entirety of the game but as soon as her rook felled his king, the corner of her mouth turned upwards into a self-satisfied smile._

"_You're absolute __**rubbish**__ at this, you know?" she said._

"_One day. You mark my words," warned Cullen._

"_You said that the last...oh, say, twenty times and I still keep winning." Mia grinned some more, rose from her chair and rubbed his shoulder fondly. "Are you staying for supper?"_

"_Of course. What's – "_

_In the blink of an eye, her face had transformed grotesquely. She grew in height, as if stretched like a strip of rubber. Her mouth widened to unnatural proportions. Her skin darkened to a slick black and she wailed upwards at the sky._

_He stumbled backwards. No. Not you. Not my Mia. She came for him swiftly on all four of her monstrous limbs. Her mouth moved and some garbled nonsense spat out. Wait. It wasn't all gibberish. She was trying to tell him something._

" – wake up!"

His eyes shot open and he sat upright. He found himself clutching someone's arm. It was Evangeline's. Cullen promptly loosened his grip. In the weak moonlight, she'd knelt by his side and looked at him, bleary-eyed and disturbed.

"I didn't mean to worry you," he mumbled.

"Well then, perhaps you should break out into song in the middle of your nightmares. You know, have a musical interlude of some sort. That'll calm me down."

He gave a dry chuckle as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Who was it this time? One of your friends?" she asked softly.

"No. Mia." He exhaled. "Do you ever wonder if...if dreams are some sort of premonition?"

"The nightmares aren't real, Cullen," said Evangeline firmly.

"Yes, but what if they're allegory? We've got a civil war competing with Darkspawn over who can best tear Ferelden apart. We're not exactly living in a golden age. It's quite bleak if you consider the bigger picture. What if Mia...what if they're not safe?"

She deliberated for a moment. "Dreams aren't purely whimsical musings," she said judiciously. "They're manifested fragments of your subconscious. In this instance, I think you're justifiably concerned for them."

"But I'm..._here_. A Templar. I have duties that I'm sworn to. How can I possibly protect them from here?"

"You can't." she said, very matter-of-fact. "But surely you could send word to them if you're this worried. Perhaps have them move somewhere safer. Temporarily."

"Is that good enough?"

"Your other alternative is to give up the Order, pack up and go home."

He looked away in sad realization. "I can't do that."

Evangeline squeezed his shoulder gently. Cullen immediately placed his hand over hers and was thankful that she didn't break away. "Do you worry for your family?"

"What do you think?" she said as she looked at him knowingly. "Ostwick is safe for the time being, but Kirkwall's a brewing shit storm."

"How do you mean?"

"There's a Qunari Arishok who's settled there. A lot of Elven slaves have converted to the Qun and the Chantry's not exactly tickled pink."

"Asogen's with them, isn't he?"

Evangeline sighed. "Yes. He wants to leave but it's not up to him. Once Elena gets married, she's going to be moving there. Right smack dab in the middle of it all."

Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out and caressed her cheek. Evangeline closed her eyes at his touch. _Sweet Andraste_, he realized, _she does feel something_. He brushed her skin lightly with his thumb.

"Evie, I..."

She opened her eyes. The way she gazed at him; no one had scrutinized him that deeply. He'd never felt more vulnerable in his life. His mind being invaded at the Circle Tower had exposed a great many things, true, but such vulnerabilities were relinquished through force. He finally understood that she was able to peruse his thoughts more thoroughly because he had allowed, no – _wanted_, her to.

"Don't start something you're not prepared to see through," she said finally as she pulled away and went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>After a filling breakfast of toast, sausages and fried tomatoes, the pair left <em>The Speckled Hen<em> and stepped out into a freshly washed morning. Lingering droplets of rain fell to the ground from overhanging branches and the scent of petrichor wafted up from the moistened soil.

Evangeline was somewhat quiet throughout breakfast. He was certain it was because of the events of the night before, but precisely which one, he couldn't be sure. If she was upset, she hadn't let on. She had smiled as they made polite conversation and had even chuckled at some of his poor jokes about the barman.

Should he have kissed her, wondered Cullen? But she didn't seem to want it. At least not at that point in time. What did she want, then? With what knowledge of romantic pursuits he could gather from fellow Templars and tomes, people always seemed to paint most women as damsels in need of rescuing. Granted, some of these were warriors of high caliber, but most tales invariably had the heroine mired in a precarious situation or scarred by a tragic past. Either way, a more masculine figure eventually stepped up to save said maiden or salvage her fractured soul.

Evangeline was clearly not in need of rescuing. If anyone needed to be thrown a lifeline, realized Cullen, it was him.

Her reaction to his hand on her cheek ostensibly signified that she cared for him. And such feelings seemed to exceed the borders of friendship. But then, why pull away?

"So do you _really_ believe Tevinter arseholes wandered into the Golden City to usurp the Maker's throne?" Evangeline asked suddenly, breaking an hour-long silence.

As they walked alongside the stream, he slipped into the habit of reciting Andrastian dogma. "The Canticle of Threnodies confirms the tale. Their footsteps sullied the Golden Hall with sin."

"Well, _that's_ the cheapest proof I've heard. It's no better than writing a piece of fiction and using its contents as irrefutable evidence of its truth. Lame."

Cullen gave her a sidelong glance. "How could you possibly serve the Templars and not subscribe to Andraste's beliefs?"

"Just because I don't believe now doesn't mean I won't believe later. I just need something tangible to convince me, that's all."

"But what motivates you to commit to the Order if not Andraste and the Maker themselves?"

"People. The Maker and Andraste? Ghostly legends that none of us will see in this lifetime. People hurting? Real. Solid." she replied, pragmatically.

Cullen stopped in his tracks briefly before proceeding. That was...sound logic. He wasn't quite able to counter it, and the fact irritated him.

The stream widened into a shimmering lake. A rudimentary dock stuck out from its banks. The sun was out in all its glory and a soft breeze sifted through their hair. Cullen went to the foot of the dock and gazed at its placid waters which reflected various shades of green from surrounding birches and conifers.

"Come on, Evie, how can you possibly take all of this in and not believe in a Creator?"

"If he steps forward and claims ownership of it all, I'll do more than just believe. I'll submit to a public flogging."

He gave her a dry look. "Alright, so what's your explanation? What have _you_ got that's better than Andraste and her Maker?"

"Absolutely nothing," she said as she grinned. "Which is a sight better in terms of what the Chantry could come up with. In terms of honesty, at any rate."

Cullen scowled back at her. "I fail to see the humour in that."

Her smile vanished. "You fail to see the humour in a great many things."

He didn't like where this was going, but she had gotten under his skin and it was too late to stop now. "Are you calling me dull?"

"You said it. Not me."

_Dear Maker_. "Well, forgive me if I'm one of the few Templars who survived being mentally tormented by demons for two whole days. I'm sorry if those nightmares have sobered me. I'll try to not let it get in the way of a good laugh."

Evangeline rolled her eyes heavenwards. "That'll be the day."

Temper rising, he emphatically gesticulated at himself with his index finger. "_Two entire days!_ For two entire days I watched as my friends were slowly murdered before my very eyes! And those bloody spirits kept me alive. Can your mind even comprehend just how much of a burden it is to be the last man standing? Can you not understand my guilt? I'm alive and they're not! And I've borne it alone for the most part – because heaven forbid that I should plant my insignificant troubles on some poor soul's shoulders." He finally stopped, a little breathless.

Looking at her now, a half-smile had slid across her face. Why was she beaming like that? Gear cranked against gear and recognition began to dawn on him.

"Did you just...?" Oh _sweet Andraste_, she had been putting him on, pushing his buttons in order to elicit some kind of release from all those emotions. How was it possible that she could see all this pent-up anger and he couldn't?

She let out a soft laugh. "Penny's in the air..."

"Oh, Maker." He closed his eyes.

"Aaaand the penny drops."

Cullen's face lit up despite himself. "You little..."

"I'm here to help you, you daft twit. I'm not going to let the past claim you. Life's here for the living. Relax those shoulders and don't forget to breathe. Stop trying to plug that bloody dam and let loose once in a while. The existence of Andraste and the Maker is irrelevant. If they're real, swell. If they're not, then you wouldn't have wasted your life on past regrets. You're not just capable of flying, Cullen – you could soar. You just have to give yourself that chance. You can let people help but _this_ – everything you _want_ – it's all on you."

"Evie, I...thank you."

She held up a hand, interrupting him. "It's what I'm here for. But there is one thing I need to know."

"Name it."

"Can you swim?"

"Yes, but why...?"

Smiling mischievously, she placed her right hand on his chest. And then pushed him. Into the water.

She guffawed deeply as he fell in with a splash. He came up sputtering in shock. Evangeline doubled over in laughter; tears streaming down her face. She pumped her fist in the air. "That's for walking in on me while I was changing and," she gasped for air as she howled in delight, "...and for being a right grumpy bastard when you want to be." She baltered about in victory with her hands held high.

Cullen's eyes reflected hilarity and he tried to keep from laughing as he swum to the shore. "Evie girl, you are _so_ dead. So _very_ dead when I catch up with you."

He climbed out of the water as she struggled to run while chortling in glee. She had gotten a head start but Cullen was the faster runner and she had to stop frequently to catch her breath.

He had almost caught up with her and was reaching out for her arm when she came to a halting stop. He looked up to see someone holding a blade to her throat.

* * *

><p>"Well, well. What have we here?" said the swordsman. "A beautiful maiden and a bedraggled peasant boy." A younger, quieter man stood by his side.<p>

"_You leave her be_," warned Cullen as he felt about for his sword. He cursed in the realization that he'd left it on the dock.

"But you're the ones trespassing on _our_ land."

"We didn't know it was your property," explained Evangeline. "We'll get off it right now. No fuss, no mess."

The swordsman shook his head. "There's only one way I'll let you go." He turned to Cullen. "I challenge you to a duel. Winner walks off without consequence."

"_What?_ This is ridiculous." exclaimed Cullen.

"Quite possibly. But I'm the one holding a blade to your lover's neck."

"We don't even have anything worth stealing!"

"I'm not after coin. So _stop _chatting or I swear I'll hurt her."

"What happens if I lose?" asked Cullen in unhappy acquiescence.

"Best not to find out. _Now_. What you say you? Will you fight for your freedom and your love?"

Cullen glowered at the newcomer. "If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get. Just let me get my sword."

Evangeline watched the exchange transpire in bewilderment. "Excuse me!" she yelled. All three men turned their attention to her. "During this entire _magnificent_ display of chest pounding, no one considered _me _the slightest bit capable of taking on this cretin? I mean, seriously, _no one?_"

It was their adversary's turn to look surprised. "I...what? You're the...er...captive."

"You know, that is extremely insulting." Evangeline pointed to her own visage. "Does this look like the face of a captive to you? Do you wander about town singling out people who _do_ and _don't_ look like captives? Are you some sort of renowned scholar in the field of captives?"

He stuttered. "Uh...? But who will we use as a hostage...?"

Evangeline gestured with both hands in Cullen's direction, as if the idea was innately obvious. Cullen sighed. _Andraste's knickers_, she was at it again. Cullen walked back in exasperation. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he grumbled. Evangeline nodded. He looked doubtful. "Because if you get yourself hurt, I'll kill you myself."

He watched as she walked away; his countenance a tad petulant and not in the least bit concerned for his own safety. In fact, he looked rather like an unhappy bulldog, Evangeline noted. She winked at him and he glowered back.

Evangeline unsheathed her sword. She sized the man up as they circled one another, muscles coiled and blades ready. The way he held his sword – the grip seemed too tight, too strained. This close to him, she could see the strained tendons and veins bulging out from his wrists. Asogen had always instructed her to grasp the hilt with a little slack. It allowed for a greater degree of maneuverability and there was less chance of pulling a hand muscle. And his feet were planted too close together – one well-placed hit and he would keel over. She began to wonder just how profound her opponent's swordsmanship truly was. He suddenly lunged straight forward. The action was more a result of frayed nerves rather than that of a surprise attack. As she stepped neatly to the side, she was convinced that the man was an amateur at best.

She gave an amused smile. "How about some banter? I could do with some good banter."

"What the hell are you on about?" he asked, as his gaze flicked to her briefly.

"It's when I come up with a few witty jabs and you parry it with an evil comeback. Or with maniacal laughter. Maniacal laughter is brilliant. Okay. I'll go first." Her expression was that of mock sobriety. "So is this how you two blackguards get your kicks, then? Wait for innocents to traipse onto your land and then rob them? Well, you've tangled with the wrong innocent, me hearty." She grinned as their swords clanked together and pulled apart. "See? Now you give it a go."

Sweat beaded on his brow. "We don't rob...just _shut up_ and fight!"

Evangeline brought her own blade underneath his own and shoved it upwards. He staggered back, a trifle astonished. He thrust it at her again and she executed a deft riposte that drew blood from his shoulder.

"I didn't think it was possible, but your banter is worse that your fight. Are you even _trying_? _Do_ be a good sport and take your swordplay up a notch."

The man's face darkened and he charged forward with a cry.

"If that's the way you want to play it..." she murmured as she eluded the gleaming metal point. Failing to make contact, the man stumbled forward. She landed a swift kick on his rear to send him sprawling face-first into the ground.

All efforts at holding the deadpan Cullen hostage vanished as the younger man rushed to the aid of his companion. "Wilhelm, are you alright?"

"Oh, he'll be fine. His ego – I'm not too sure about." remarked Evangeline as she sheathed her sword. "Serves you idiots right for taking on a couple of Templars."

As the man heaved Wilhelm to his feet, he regarded them with reverence. "You're Templars? The pair of you?"

"Only when we're not dealing with imbecilic bumpkins." said Cullen as he walked to Evangeline's side.

"I'm sorry. So very sorry," he apologized. He stuck his hand out. Cullen grudgingly shook it. "I'm Elgyn. Wilhelm's my brother. This was all his idea, but he meant well, so please don't blame him. And this isn't our land."

"Don't blame him for trying to kill innocent travelers?" asked Cullen in amazement. "Well _that's_ got to be one of the sorriest excuses in history."

"No, no!" protested Elgyn. "He did it for me. My betrothed, Delphine, she disappeared about a month and a half ago. Not even the village guardsmen could spare a man to help look for her. So Wilhelm hired some folk who he thought were sellswords, but they were just thieves and cheated him of his money, see. And now we're left with precious little. He wanted to find some mercenaries who're up for a real fight. We have some coin left but we can't afford to waste it on people who can't handle themselves."

Wilhelm glared angrily at Evangeline as his younger brother continued. "But you're Templars! The Maker sent you to us, I'm sure of it. You could help me find my Delphine, can't you?"

Evangeline and Cullen exchanged glances.

"Yes. Okay. We'll help." said Cullen finally.

* * *

><p>They marched on for three hours before the foliage began to thin out. They passed amber wheat fields and mills, barns and farmhouses. As they stepped past the threshold of the village gates, several passers-by glanced up to survey the newcomers.<p>

"Something's bugging me," began Evangeline.

"What's that?" asked Elgyn.

She pointed at Wilhelm. "This one's for your brother actually." She turned her head towards him as they walked. "So you two were wandering the lands looking to hire some muscle, correct?"

"Yes." said Wilhelm, sourly.

"And the standard for assessing competency was..._you_? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's very brave and all that, but you're not exactly the best benchmark, are you?" Evangeline shook her head. "_Damn_. You must have been desperate."

Wilhelm coloured but said nothing.

Cullen rolled his eyes and leaned in to whisper something in Evangeline's ear. "Do try not to antagonize them, Evie. We're here to help. A little less sass, okay?"

_Oh, very well_. "So where are we going?" she asked.

"Of the two girls who disappeared after my Delphine vanished, one of them escaped."

"How? And can she identify her abductor?" questioned Cullen.

Elgyn ran a hand through his mop of brown hair and sighed. "Yes. But it's best you ask her yourself."

* * *

><p>He knocked on a door of a small home. An older man – his jowls stubbled with flecks of silver hair – answered the door and motioned them in.<p>

The girl sat quietly at a table, nursing a cup of steaming hot tea. The scent of chamomile and mint hung throughout the modest interior. A cat lay curled on a rug across from the fireplace. From the light off a wall sconce, Evangeline speculated that she must only be a few years older than herself. Her pale, curly blonde hair rested atop her shoulders. She looked up at the newcomers with mild interest and rose to greet them.

The older man ambled beside her and placed a gentle hand on her back. He introduced himself as the local miller, Bernard Finn, and the girl was his only daughter, Nerys. Evangeline looked around for any sign of the girl's mother, but there was none.

Nerys shook Evangeline's hand and when she reached out to grasp Cullen's, her breath caught. Her hand went limp within his and a pink hue flushed across her cheeks.

Cullen, bless his heart, remained oblivious. The reaction did not escape Evangeline's notice, however, but she chose to shrug it off as they sat around the table.

"We're sorry to trouble you," began Elgyn as he patted Nerys' hand in sympathy, "but we found some Templars who've agreed to help us find Delphine and Ursula."

"You're Templars?" said Nerys as her blue eyes settled on Cullen.

"Yes." he replied.

"We would hate to make you relive what happened, but you need to tell them. Just once more." urged Elgyn.

Nerys' father placed a reassuring arm around his daughter and smiled in encouragement. "Go on, girl, I'm right here beside you."

"I...alright."

For the better part of an hour, Nerys described her ordeal. She, along with her friend Ursula, had ventured beyond the outskirts of their village as one of their cows had wandered off. Trying to locate the animal proved a fruitless endeavor and the sun had begun to sink before the pair decided to give up the search. On their return, they were ambushed by disfigured creatures who then proceeded to subdue and bind their hands. There weren't many of them – only about two or three, but they were strong and well-armed. Nerys was unable to discern anything coherent as the savages only conversed in guttural grunts and growls.

They forcibly marched the pair away farther from home and towards the hilltops. Ursula, rendered terrified by the ongoing nightmare, had begun to cry. Her sobs grew in crescendo until they became loud wails. One of the beasts had attempted to gag her, but she put up a good struggle, and he needed the help of the other two to pin her down.

Nerys immediately took advantage of the distraction and had fled down the hill. She kept running and hadn't looked back.

Her tale over, Elgyn turned to Evangeline and Cullen. "We have some theories on what the creatures might be, but we didn't want to alarm the entire village without knowing for sure. We've never seen the like before. It was the mayor's choice, and perhaps it is a sound one."

"It's a small village," noted Evangeline, "surely the word would have spread by now."

Wilhelm nodded. "They know about Delphine's and Ursula's disappearance, but not of the likelihood that these things might very well be Darkspawn."

"If the Grey Wardens had survived Ostagar, perhaps they would have nipped this in the bud. Cailan would have seen to it. But our king and Wardens are dead, and we have been abandoned to fend for ourselves out here." explained Bernard. "Elgyn has been praying for a miracle, and your presence here might be just what we need."

"What happened to Ursula?" asked Evangeline.

"I...don't know," said Nerys meekly. "She was alive when I left her."

"Well, they didn't want to kill you," remarked Cullen. "If you'll pardon my tactless words, they could just as easily have finished the job right when they ambushed you. They seem to need you alive for something."

Tears welled in Nerys' eyes. "Do you think they'll come back for me?"

Cullen shook his head. "They don't seem to a great many of them. They'd need to build their numbers to take on an entire village. Speaking of which," said Cullen as he glanced at Elgyn, "do you have enough guards on watch? I'm fairly certain the Darkspawn won't venture here, but it's best to take no chances."

"We have a few skilled men posted around the walls. They're not _Templar_ material, but they're hardy and brave."

"The mayor had considered sending out some scouts," added Wilhelm, "but our scouts also happen to be some of our best warriors and we can't afford to lose them with this danger so close at hand."

"Perhaps we could look around," suggested Evangeline. She looked at Nerys. "We have an hour or two of daylight left. Do you think you could find the place where you made your escape? I swear that I won't let you come to any harm."

"Go back there?" said Nerys, incredulously. "What if they're still in the area?"

"We have to do _something_, Nerys." pleaded Elgyn. "You're our best and only hope at finding the others. We can't abandon them to their fate."

"Alright." she conceded. "But don't ever ask me to do this again. Going back there twice in one lifetime is already more than I can handle."

"Thank you," said a grateful Elgyn as he clasped her hands in his own. "My heart is less troubled and you've given me reason to hope."

"And I can have a word with your guards," said Cullen. "See if they're prepared enough. I'll need access to your smithy and armory."

"That won't be a problem. I'll take you there right now."

"Wait!" cried Nerys suddenly. "I...I'll only go if you come with me." she said, looking straight at Cullen. "You seem more capable."

_And what does that make me_, wondered Evangeline? _Chump change?_

Cullen stuttered as he stood up. He glanced in Evangeline's direction and then back at Nerys. "I...uh...I assure you, my friend is just as skilled."

Nerys assessed Evangeline doubtfully. "You're, well, taller though. And probably stronger. Your friend and I wouldn't stand a chance against those things if they show up."

Evangeline remained seated with her arms folded across her chest. She was steaming. First, she qualified as hostage-material and now Nerys had dubbed her a weakling. Honestly, what kind of damnable vibe did she give off? Were the words _spineless worm_ tattooed across her forehead for all to see?

"Oh, just go already." said an exasperated Evangeline before she stepped out into the cool evening. "I'll check out their defenses."

* * *

><p>As Elgyn led her towards the armory, a new aspect of the incident dawned on her. Was it possible that the girl Nerys was more interested in garnering Cullen's attentions rather than Evangeline's competency as fighter? The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed. As soon as her hands had touched Cullen's, Nerys had been deeply affected by the contact.<p>

But surely she wasn't all _that_ interested in seducing her companion. They had only just met. He could be a ruthless mercenary for all Nerys knew. Evangeline sighed. Who was she kidding? He certainly didn't have the aura of a blackguard about him. He was decent, reliable, and far kinder than he gave himself credit for. You could smell his honesty a mile off. And, realized Evangeline, it didn't hurt that he was ever so easy on the eyes.

It should come as little surprise to her then, that Nerys was prepared to subject him to her feminine wiles. _Damn those wiles_. Evangeline found her heart beating faster at the thought of the pair alone, not a soul in sight and...

"...and as you can see, some of it's not in the greatest condition." said Elgyn.

So immersed was she in her anxieties that she hadn't even noticed entering the armory. _To work, then_.

She surveyed the cramped interior and worried her lower lip. This was...not good. A few rusted helms, the metal dented and broken in places, sat atop a shelf. Several hauberks were piled in one corner, but some moisture had made its way there as well. Evangeline ran a finger against the interlinked mail and it picked up a thick coating of a reddish hue. She wiped her finger on her trousers.

Evangeline placed her hands on her hips. She doubted that other pieces of chest plates, pauldrons and cuirasses were in any better condition.

"We're going to have to get someone to sort through this all," she instructed. "Salvage what you can and throw the rest out. Make an inventory of what we already have and what we need. I trust that your forge is already up and running?"

"Uh...no. The mayor didn't want a panic on his hands, so he's kept this hushed up for the time being."

"So are you telling me that your smithy isn't even in operation?" she asked in disbelief.

"Oh, it is. But just not for weapons."

She exhaled. "Okay. Let's go have a word with your mayor. Keeping something like this under wraps is well and good, but not at the cost of your lives."

* * *

><p>Cullen gazed out at the horizon. The sun had begun to set and it would be dark in a half hour. "Is it much farther?" he asked as waded through the knee-high grass.<p>

"Just over that hill." said Nerys. She gave Cullen a sidelong glance. "What were you Templars doing all the way out here?"

Cullen swatted at a gnat as it buzzed about him. "Our commander received a report of Darkspawn sightings hereabouts and we were instructed to investigate."

"But father said that a messenger was sent out about three weeks ago. Why did it take you this long to make it out here?"

"There were...other incidents that took precedence at the time." _You know, abominations, demons, walking corpses_.

"Well, I'm glad that you came out here nevertheless. Do you mind if we stop for a few minutes? My ankles are rather sore."

The sun was halfway down. "Just a few minutes. We really should get a move on before it gets dark."

Nerys neatly tucked her dress underneath her before sitting on a small boulder. She removed her shoes and massaged her feet. His mind elsewhere, Cullen surveyed their environment for anything out of the ordinary.

"Where are you from?" asked Nerys.

"What? Honnleath."

"Do you have family there?"

"Yes – two sisters and a brother. My parents remain there as well."

"Anyone else...?" she asked, not lifting her sight off him. His demeanor was tremendously professional and she gave into the temptation of attempting to crack it. She couldn't help but take in his amber eyes, his dusty blond hair, the broad shoulders and athletic physique.

Cullen looked at her, confused. "I suppose some of my older friends are still there, but I left when I was thirteen and lost touch with them."

"Anyone...special?"

_What? Oh_. "I...uh...no. Not in Honnleath. We should...uh, get going."

Nerys smiled as she slipped her shoes back on. "What about your friend?"

He maintained a nervous silence and didn't respond.

* * *

><p>In the fading light, he was lucky to have caught sight of it at all. But the intense blue of the cloth stood out among the brown grass. He'd held it up for Nerys to inspect and she was fairly certain that this was what Ursula was wearing on the day that she went missing. A few yards ahead, he found another similar strip and suspected that their presence was not pure coincidence. Ursula had left a trail for them to follow. Good for her.<p>

But it was growing dark and with significant cloud cover, it would be pointless to keep moving forward. They would pick up the trail the following day.

An awkward silence permeated the air between them as they journeyed back in the dark. Well, awkward for Cullen, at least. He had finally realized that Nerys might have developed some amorous intentions towards him and he didn't quite know how to respond to it. He had to admit to being flattered at the attention though – the girl really was quite pretty.

"You never answered my question, you know." she said. In the dark, her voice seemed as if it was smiling.

"Uh...what question was that?"

"About your friend – Evelyn."

"_Evangeline_," corrected Cullen. "What about her?"

A chilling gust of wind swept by them. Nerys rubbed her hands against her upper shoulders for warmth. "It's a little cold out, isn't it?"

Cullen paused momentarily, removed his jacket and placed it around her.

"Thank you."

"Well? What about Evangeline?" repeated Cullen.

"She's...well, she's a beautiful girl. I would never have pegged her for a Templar. I only thought men joined your order."

"The majority of us are men, true, but women aren't prohibited from joining."

"She must have a great many admirers, no?"

"I...I wouldn't know anything about that. Why would I know about that?" said Cullen. He could feel his cheeks colouring.

They entered the village gates. All was more or less quiet about them save for the sound of raucous laughter coming from a tavern a few houses down.

"I'm a little parched after all that hiking. Would you...like to buy me a drink?"

He looked away, fervently searching for an escape. "A drink?"

"Yes, Cullen," she laughed. "One harmless drink."

"I...really can't. It's just that – "

She held up an index finger and mouthed: _one drink_.

_Blessed Andraste_, she was a persistent one, _wasn't she?_ He doubted that it would be as harmless as she was making it out to be. These things had a tendency to spiral out of control. And he found that – as pretty and charming as Nerys was – his heart was...well, claimed.

"Nerys, I'm so sorry. I...just don't think it's a good idea. It's late and I'm actually rather tired. I hope you can forgive me." He gave her an apologetic smile.

"Only if you'll let _me_ buy _you_ one tomorrow."

"Uh...okay. We'll see," was all he could manage before walking off towards his temporary lodgings. As he rounded the corner, he broke into a jog.

* * *

><p>The room was still and the curtains had been pulled shut. Evangeline had left a candle burning for him. He could see her form underneath the bedspread and she appeared to be sleeping. He quietly sat down on the bed opposite hers and began to unlace his boots. The mattress springs creaked slightly under his weight.<p>

"You're back late." came Evangeline's voice from under the sheets.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "And you should be sleeping. So did you check out their defenses? How did it go?"

She sat up in bed with an unhappy frown. "We have a lot of work to do. They never had much reason to maintain their equipment so it's all rather deteriorated. They don't even have their forge up and running. The mayor's concerned that everyone will panic if they knew of the Darkspawn so he's been reluctant to commit to any preparations. I had a word with him today, and I think he's coming around."

"What about the village walls? Think they can hold off against trebuchets? Siege engines?"

Evangeline's eyes widened. "You make it sound like we're going to have to fend off an entire Darkspawn horde. What _did_ you find out there?"

He held out the blue strips of cloth towards her. "Ursula left us a trail. We couldn't follow it all the way though. You and I will have to take a look tomorrow morning. And, no, I don't expect a horde. Just paranoid I suppose."

Evangeline nodded. "I suppose there's – where's your jacket?" she asked suddenly.

"I...I believe I gave it to Nerys."

"_Oh_. Okay." Evangeline glanced away in contemplation. "Why does she have your jacket?"

"She was cold. Is there...something wrong with giving someone your jacket when they're cold?" His eyes twinkled at her.

"Of course not. Don't be silly."

He nodded as his visage broke into a wide smile. Was that a touch of jealousy he detected?

"It's just a jacket, Evie. It's not like we're getting married in the morning."

Her face fell. "Married? What do you mean – _married?_"

He let out a soft chuckle. "Relax. I was only joking. Please don't sic your little green monster on me."

"I don't...I'm not...I _don't_ have a little green monster."

The shoe was on the other foot now, and he found it extremely difficult to hide his delighted amusement. "Of course you don't." In a few swift strides, he crossed the room to give her a kiss on the head. "Goodnight, Evie girl."

And then he returned to his own bed and blew out the candle. He went to sleep with a pleased smile on his face.


	13. Pretend There's a Plan

**Author's note:**

Muchas thankses as always, guys.

* * *

><p><strong>Pretend There's a Plan<strong>

Evangeline brushed a hand through the tall copper grass as they pressed forwards towards the location Nerys had taken Cullen the night before. The sky was overcast – as various shades of grey nimbi raced across it. The wind came in gusts, and caressed the stalks of grass which danced around like the crests of ocean waves. She found herself smiling as another blast of air sailed past them.

Cullen pulled his collar close about him and glanced at Evangeline. "I thought you despised the cold?"

She chuckled. "_That _back at the Tower was hell frozen over, remember? _This_ is bracing. Blows the cobwebs away, as they say."

"_I_ think it reminds you of home."

"Quite possibly." She bent down to tie her boots as the laces had come undone. The subject of home brought back fond memories that were partly tinged with pain. "You know, when we get back to the village, I'd be much more comfortable if you took a walk around their perimeter. See if their walls can withstand an assault. That's not really my area, and let's admit it – you've been at this a lot longer than I have."

She began to walk alongside him as he acquiesced. "Did _you_ see any weaknesses?" he asked.

"It was getting dark, so I couldn't be sure, but there is some wood rot in places. They may have to patch it up."

Cullen shook his head. "Patch-up jobs are sloppy. If we have time and enough lumber, perhaps we could rebuild some of those sections." He came to a stop. "Well, this is it. I found the second piece of cloth hereabouts. Let's comb the grass."

As they crouched over and began hunting, Cullen spoke in as casual a voice as he could muster. "So. How's Alec?"

Evangeline tried not to look back up at him. "He's uh...fine. I mean, I think he is. I haven't seen him in almost a month."

"You must miss him then."

Evangeline paused as something caught her eye a few feet ahead. She picked up the item and tossed it aside. It was just a scrap of dyed vellum. She resumed her search. "I...suppose so."

"_You suppose so?_" repeated Cullen, a trifle surprised. He wasn't sure if that was more of an _I-miss-him-because-I-feel-obliged-to_ or _I-don't-really-miss-him-because-I'm-with-you_. But he was too terrified to ask her which of the two she truly felt.

Evangeline gazed at him a little sheepishly and let out a deep breath. "Honestly? You know how all couples have their ups and downs? Ours are a little more _drastic_ than that."

"Which? The ups or the downs? Or both?"

"We...uh...more downs than ups." She judiciously chose not to talk about their last make-up session, partly because she didn't want to make Cullen feel uncomfortable and partly because she had been significantly inebriated during the entire process.

"Do you guys argue a lot?" he asked.

Evangeline straightened and placed her hands on her hips. "You're _awfully_ curious about my love life."

"I...uh...just friendly curiousity. You know. As a friend. Because that's what we are. Friends."

"Are we now?" she said as she cocked her head to one side and scrutinized him. The corners of her mouth began to twitch into a smile as he quickly broke eye contact, and started to rub the back of his neck.

He nodded, not saying a word.

A portion of Evangeline wanted to leave it be. But her darker, more adventurous nature asserted its dominance. "And what about you? How's _your_ love life shaping out?"

"My um..._what?_" His hand reached for the back of his neck. _Again_.

"Your...love...life," she said slowly and patronizingly. Her eyes flicked towards the tall weeds near his person, and then back at him.

"I don't...have time for that sort of thing."

She moved a step closer to him and then crouched down, all the while directing an amused gaze at him. She fumbled about for something in the grass and then stood up. She held a torn fragment of blue silk in front of him and shook it briefly. "Maybe you should be paying more attention to your surroundings instead of troubling yourself with my amorous exercises."

* * *

><p>A half hour later, the pair stood before a cavernous entrance embedded in the hillside. Its darkened mouth seemed to forebode invisible dangers. But that was where Ursula's clever trail had led them, and that was where they'd have to venture.<p>

"Perhaps we should send a messenger to Brunswick," muttered Cullen. "We don't know how many of them are in there. We have to keep in mind what Gregoir said."

Evangeline's eyes remained fixed on the cave's entrance. "I don't really want to look an idiot on account of three Darkspawn. Let's just take a peek."

He looked at her dubiously. "You know, that's how misadventure begins. Harmless curiousity. Then before you know it, we'll be swarmed by Darkspawn and demons and – "

"Then wait out here. I'll be back in a jiffy."

Cullen threw his hands up in despair. "_A jiffy?_ How long is a jiffy? What constitutes a _jiffy?_" And he jogged after her.

Evangeline paused at the entrance and turned around abruptly. Her ears were focused, her entire attitude was that of a _listening_ one. "Do you hear that? It's coming from behind us."

Cullen moved farther away from the cavern gazed out, shielding his eyes from the grey-white glare. "There's...someone coming towards us."

Evangeline instinctively placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Oh, bloody hell," murmured Cullen.

"What? What?" cried Evangeline as she took her place alongside him. And then she too, let loose a string of curses.

A woman – rather awkwardly attired – ran up the hill. Her cries were carried across the wind. In less than a minute, she stood before the two Templars, gasping for air.

"What happened?" demanded Evangeline. "Is the village being attacked?"

Nerys looked directly at Cullen and shook her head. "No...but I was worried for you."

"Why on earth are you wearing armor then?" questioned a stupefied Evangeline.

"I want to help. Bring the others back," she paused, breathless. "I can help."

"_Sweetheart_," began a sarcastic and impassive Evangeline, "you have your chest-plate on back to front. And where the hell is your weapon?"

Nerys held out a rather short dagger.

"That's a bloody letter-opener!" exclaimed Evangeline.

"It's my _father's_ dagger." stated Nerys a tad resentful.

"Surely your father couldn't have allowed this," added Cullen. "You _have_ to go back."

"I...yes, he doesn't know. And no, I'm _not_ going back. You could be in grave danger." Nerys glared back at him in defiance.

Evangeline huffed as she rolled her eyes. "_Maferath's sodding balls_. Fine." She looked at Cullen. "Stay here and protect your lady-love while I go take a look inside." She turned and walked into the cave.

"She is _not_ my...I...Evie, wait!" Cullen hurried after her with Nerys in tow.

* * *

><p>Droplets of water rolled down calcified stalactites and fell into puddles in loud plops, as the sound reverberated against the confines of the cavern. They had long since lost sight of daylight, but a faint phosphoric coating on stone provided a dim, yet eerie, illumination.<p>

"Anything?" called out Cullen in Evangeline's direction. She had scouted ahead of them.

"Nothing," replied Evangeline as she circumvented naturally formed columns of salt. There appeared to have been a cave-in at some point, as an assortment of various sized-boulders had plugged a hole, preventing her from moving forward. The hollow's interior seemed to end here with nothing to show for their efforts. She began to retrace her steps.

As Cullen began to examine their surroundings for a third time, he heard a loud squawk coming from the rear of the cavern. He raced towards Evangeline only to find her sitting on the ground with her legs dangling into a gaping opening.

"I'm okay," she said, attempting to reassure them. "Almost fell all the way in."

Cullen stretched out hand to help her up, but she stared at the hole below her in contemplation. His eyes narrowed as he read her mind. "Don't you even think about it. You'll break your neck," he cautioned. "We'll find another way in."

Oblivious to his warnings, she went on. "You know, in one of Tethras' novels, his protagonist has to jump into the mouth of a sea-beast in order to save the woman he loves."

Cullen pointed emphatically at the tunnel beneath her. "_This_ is _not_ a sea-beast, and _you_ are _not_ a protagonist in some lurid novel."

Evangeline looked up at the cavern's roof in deliberation. "I think I can recall how it went," she murmured. "_Sharlto was awestruck at the creature's gaping maw. Terror filled his wretched soul, but Philomena's love surpassed that fear. With pursed lips and a determined brow, he leapt down the gullet of the monstrosity_."

Cullen kept shaking his head as she talked, and finally reached out to grab her. But his hands clutched at the empty air as she descended down the hollow with an exhilarated whoop.

He ran his hands across his face in fear and exasperation. _Maker, give him strength_. He stepped closer to the hole when Nerys suddenly grasped his arm.

"You can't," she insisted. She nodded in whatever direction Evangeline had descended. "She's capable. You said it yourself. We'll wait for her here. She'll be back – you'll see."

Cullen gently removed Nerys' clasped fingers. "Go back to your father. Staying here would be foolish. I have to follow her," he said slowly.

"What if something happens to you? I couldn't bear it."

"_Nerys_," he said firmly. "One way or another I have to go down there. If you stay here, the Darkspawn might return and you may not be so lucky the second time round. Do you understand me?"

She nodded reluctantly. "What'll happen to you? And why do you feel so compelled to do this?"

"It's my duty. And...because Evie's an impulsive, deranged, loon." he exhaled. "But she's _my_ impulsive, deranged, loon and I have to go after her."

And before Nerys could stop him, he leapt – feet first – after Evangeline.

* * *

><p>Evangeline was thankful that the tunnel was not a straight vertical drop. If it was, Cullen would have been proven right, and she'd have broken her neck. It meandered in places and had slowed her descent. And then it grew steeper and she could feel her stomach lurch as she plummeted. She clutched at projecting roots in order to reduce speed. In what seemed like an eternity, the hole finally dropped her into a puddle of rather putrid water.<p>

She sat up, rubbed her sore rear, and shook her hands to rid herself of the excess droplets. Gazing at her surroundings, she caught sight of a vast hall. Massive columns stretched out into the darkness. Several torches appear to have been lit recently. _An underground city_, she wondered? She walked carefully towards a pillar and began to examine it.

A loud thud and splash emanated from behind her and she jumped around, startled.

"Cullen?" exclaimed Evangeline as she ran to him. "Where the hell is Nerys? Did you leave her _alone_ up there?"

"I'm just fine – thanks for asking," groused Cullen as Evangeline hoisted him up. "And I told Nerys to head home."

She regarded him a little doubtfully. "The girl was ready to follow you to the ends of the earth. How the _devil_ did you talk her out of it?"

"I put the fear of Darkspawn into her."

"Ah."

He looked above him and at the hold they'd come through. "That is most definitely not an exit. It's far too high to reach. Which means there has to be another way out of here." He placed his hands on his hips. "Where _are_ we?"

Evangeline hopped towards the column she was inspecting earlier and ran a hand along its edges. "Marble! _Old, stained_ marble, but definitely some quality craftsmanship here!" She beamed at him and gesticulated about them with both hands. "This entire place just stepped out of a book."

Cullen came to her side. "And what book would that be?"

"_The Lost Thaigs of Orzammar_."

"Except...we're not _in_ Orzammar," he remarked as he pivoted slowly around. He gazed at the high, vaulted ceilings. Back in its glory days, this hall must have been resplendent. Evangeline's excitement was contagious. He found himself imagining throngs of dwarves bustling to and fro. The polished floors would have shone brightly and reflected the lights off of intricate wall sconces.

"Exactly! I'm no historian by a long shot, but even _I_ know that the existence of this place could change so many things we thought we knew about dwarven culture. I wonder if even _they're_ aware of it?"

"Let's try to contain ourselves," he said as he smiled at her. "We still have to find the others."

Evangeline nodded and followed him.

* * *

><p>Darkspawn were underground dwellers for the most part, but that didn't mean that they could find their way in pitch darkness. Cullen and Evangeline followed a trail of lit torches that took the pair through ancient corridors and chambers of stone.<p>

They journeyed in silence for a few minutes; aware of the dangers that possibly lay ahead. But they also couldn't help admiring the workmanship and efforts that had gone into constructing this underground marvel.

"Do you ever get to read much?" asked Evangeline. "For pleasure, I mean."

"Perhaps not as much as I would like. But uh...I may pass on some of Tethras' novels. If you're offering, that is." said Cullen.

She chuckled. "It's just...all the heroes, they start out as just ordinary people. But there's something inside that defines them and sets them apart from the rest of us. Maybe it's the courage to stand up for what they believe or maybe they've reached a threshold – a point where they can't handle injustice or whatever. It's all very romantic and noble. When I joined the Templars, I was rather reluctant at first. But I decided to paint them this way. The way I saw legends in books. It made joining them slightly easier."

"That's how I first saw them when I was young."

"And do you still...?"

He reflected on this for a moment before going on. "I do. They have the strength and conviction to do what everyone else would rather run from."

"Have you ever considered leaving?" she asked.

"I...yes. Just once though. After what happened at the Tower. I just wanted out – to get away from it all. You...uh...changed my mind. You made me see that I still have more left to give to the Order."

"Ah." said Evangeline, a little sadly.

Cullen glanced at her. "Why? Have _you_ ever considered leaving?"

"Back when Adric and I were chasing after the apostate, I remember storming into _his_ cabin, _his_ home, and threatening his life and the woman he was protecting. I think Ophelia was her name. He wanted to be with her. But the Circle would never have allowed them to remain together." Evangeline looked down at her feet as they walked. "And then we came along, shining knights of the Order, and we...I butchered him."

"He was an apostate, Evie, a blood mage. He could have become an abomination and would have eventually been a threat to everyone he loved."

"But those are just labels. Take them away and what do you have? A man, who'd decided to choose happiness for himself. Doesn't he have that right?"

"He doesn't _deserve_ that right because of the danger he poses to everyone." explained Cullen.

"You can put a gentle mabari in a cage and falsely accuse it of being a threat. You can then poke and prod it with sticks, treat it as inhumanely as possible, and then one day...the animal will snap. Become vicious. You'd have turned it exactly into what you imagined it to be."

"That's not the same thing."

"Isn't it?" she questioned with a knowing smile. "He was right."

"Who?"

"Adric. There's this poem he once quoted," she paused trying to recollect the exact words. "_They were right when they said we should never meet our heroes. When they bow at their feet, in the end it wasn't me_. Do you know why he remains a Templar?"

"Those are...beautiful words." Cullen looked at her with sadness. "He told me about Peter."

"There are times when he despises the Order. But he stays there because of him. He feels that he owes Peter something. And you know what? I'd never tell him to his face, but he's right. There are times I watch him gazing at Peter when he thinks I'm not looking. It...it breaks my heart. I want to tell him to get the hell out. But they took his love away from him, Cullen. They almost broke him. He hides it well. But sometimes...he cracks."

"I know."

"Adric is the one true, good man there."

"Are you saying that there aren't any honest, good men within the Order?" asked Cullen eyeing her dubiously.

"There's a distinction between honesty and goodness. You've set yourself to this moral compass, yeah? And all your beliefs, your ideals, are adjusted according to its boundaries. Do you ever stop yourself to ask if this is what you started with? Have you tweaked who you truly are to fit the mold?" She looked away momentarily.

"What I'm putting in words is rather simplistic if you think about it." Evangeline inhaled. "When we begin..more often than not, we start off as completely different than what we've become. You become these different people at different stages of your life. Convention dictates that your past does not define you. That's true, up to a point. If you forget all those people who you were before, then what's the point? What would you have learned?"

Cullen sighed. How on earth did she possess the propensity for logic that he could never quite counter? Was this self-examination or was this scrutiny directed at himself? "Do you feel that you're lying to yourself?"

Evangeline shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe. But I no longer believe in heroes. At least, not in reality. I think they're fictitious legends that exist to simply inspire others. And we exploit their tales because we're selfish that way. And sometimes...well, I don't want to be part of the lie anymore."

"Are you saying...?"

Evangeline gave a sad laugh. "You can't even say it, can you? Thinking of leaving the Templars? Possibly."

Cullen stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Was it something I said?"

"Oh heavens, no. This is me. This is _all _me."

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze of encouragement. "But you could _be_ so much more. _Give_ so much more with the Templars. You possess a strength I don't think even you can comprehend. At first, I thought it was immaturity –"

She chuckled. "Oh, I have plenty of _that_."

Cullen gave her a half-smile. "But I think what it truly is...is innocence and wisdom all balled into one spectacular creation. I think you'd rather trade chasing after riches or glory for pushing someone into a lake. And you know what the beautiful thing about someone who isn't ambitious is? They can't be bought. They have no price. The Order needs more people like you."

Evangeline flushed and broke eye contact. "That's kinder than I deserve. And, well, my decision isn't set in stone." She fidgeted in place. "Besides, we still have a job to do."

* * *

><p>They hiked for ten more minutes through the underground city. As they stepped through a narrow aisle, a rancid odour arose ahead of them.<p>

"This doesn't bode well," remarked Evangeline in a low voice.

"We could be getting close." said Cullen. He came to a stop and reached out for her arm. He looked anxious, and a trifle ashamed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"My swordsmanship skills may not be what they once were. I...haven't fought anything apart from a wooden dummy. I've had no practice for over a month now – I'm just afraid I'll hold you back. And uh...if something does happen to me in there, I want you get out of here as fast as you can." He gave her a wan smile. "Can you promise to do that for me?"

Evangeline marched a step closer to him until their faces were inches apart. She gave him a stony glare and then flicked his ear with her index finger.

He instinctively brought his hand up to his earlobe. "_Ow!_ What the _hell_ was that for?"

"Honestly, you are such a dramatic numbskull sometimes. I'm never going to leave you to go down in a blaze of glory by yourself. Allow _you_ to take all the credit?" She snorted. "_You wish_. Now come on, and let's see who cut the cheese."

"Do you...uh...have a particular plan in mind?" asked Cullen, tentatively.

"Plan? _Pfff_. Of course I have a plan. Who leaps into this kind of situation without a plan?"

He stared at her impassively and lowered his brows. "I don't know. My mind's drawing a blank right now."

She gave him a watery grin and hurried on.

As they rounded the corner, the corridor opened into an antechamber. A small fire burned at one end as various instruments, pieces of armor and pouches circled it. _Was this a rudimentary campsite_, Cullen wondered? The pair searched the dusty interior for any evidence of the missing girls. Evangeline found darkened smears of blood on one wall but not much else. A small drum of what appeared to contain oil lay next to a battered cuirass.

Muffled noises carried through to the antechamber suddenly. Cullen and Evangeline froze before quickly scuttling in the direction from which they had originally entered. They quickly extinguished a torch that would have given up their location and crouched low, hoping that the darkness would provide sufficient cover.

A disfigured entity strolled into the antechamber. Evangeline could see the taut, powerful muscles of the creature from where they squatted. The gums of its mouth were drawn back into a snarl, exposing a row of sharpened, yellowed teeth. It took her a moment to realize that the being was not snarling at all – the macabre expression was simply part of its anatomy. It moved towards the campsite and picked up a dagger that lay beside it. It then proceeded to walk back to where it originated.

Evangeline squeezed Cullen's arm and moved forward quietly, beckoning him to follow her. They trailed behind the Darkspawn and watched as it entered yet another chamber. Guttural groans wafted in their direction, but the pair couldn't see very much of anything without venturing closer. They advanced and took cover behind two adjacent walls and peered inside.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she stared at the massive being within the large rotunda. It was a throne room of some sort, and the creature – part woman and part beast – had perched itself on the dais. Tentacled limbs swirled through the air, touching the Darkspawn before it almost tenderly. Its thick feelers then snaked across the room and onto two limp, naked figures that sat propped against the wall. One of the Darkspawn, quite possibly a Hurlock judging by the marks on its gauntlets, sliced a ragged piece of flesh that it held in its hand.

It then moved towards the two forms and pinched the nose of one of its captives, abruptly cutting off their air. The prisoner immediately came to life and struggled as the Hurlock attempted to force feed the woman the rancid meat. Cullen and Evangeline watched in stunned silence as the captive finally had no choice but to swallow the poison in order to breathe again.

The pair exchanged fearful and sober glances. In the silent conversation that transpired between them, it was evident that neither one of them were prepared to retreat. They could certainly have brought in reinforcements, but all that would have cost them precious time and might very well have doomed both women to this wicked fate.

Evangeline gesticulated for Cullen to remain where he was. She scuttled off and returned with the small drum of oil tucked under one arm and a lit torch in the other. He nodded in comprehension. He counted silently to three and the pair rushed forward.

Cullen went straight for the swarming tentacles and attempted to keep them off Evangeline as she flung the barrel of oil over the horror with the flaming torch close behind it. The fire roared to life in mere seconds. She then challenged the Hurlock. The other two Darkspawn were shorter and more slender. She'd have an easier time handling them than their bigger and more battle-hardened counterpart. Amidst the shrieks of the enraged she-beast, the pair began to fight back to back in order to avoid being flanked separately.

As Evangeline countered a thrusting blade she shouted out to Cullen. "We were constantly at each other's throats!" She shot sharp glances at the nude, obscene entity on the dais, praying that the fire would take. The creature screeched – its voice both human and monstrous.

He sliced the tip off a feeler and watched as it writhed on the ground in agony. "_What the hell are you talking about?_"

"Me and Alec – we don't get along that great anymore!" The Hurlock slammed his serrated sword on top of Evangeline's and she did all she could to keep her own within her grasp_. Damn. The bugger was strong_. She slid her sword out from underneath the Hurlock's and sparks flew as metal screeched against metal. Her blade finally free of his, she kicked the Hurlock in its midriff. It stumbled backwards but didn't fall.

"Why are you telling me this now?" yelled Cullen.

She lunged at the Hurlock and hit the crown of his head hard with her sword's pommel. The creature was rendered dazed and she swiftly shoved her sword with all her might into its chest. She then deftly turned the hilt and yanked the blade back. The Hurlock crumpled to the floor.

"Because we're either going to be burned alive or get eaten by that fucking she-goblin," she retorted, nodding in the direction of the spreading flames. "Never thought I'd say this, but I'd prefer being flambéd than go down in bite-sized chunks. Wouldn't you?"

"Watch your left!" shouted Cullen.

She turned just in the nick of time to evade an attack by the two remaining Darkspawn. Cullen bellowed and tried to draw the one away from her. The fire was advancing towards them fast.

"But why do _I_ need to know?" he exclaimed.

Evangeline grunted as she pivoted to execute a riposte. "Because I care about you, you stupid bastard! And before we die, I want you to know!"

He froze and in that instant came very close to being impaled. But he suddenly grew animated at this revelation and strength seemed to flood into him. With renewed vigour, he mercilessly advanced towards his adversary and with a few flourishes of his sword, he felled the creature. He glanced at the abomination on the dais – she was enveloped by flames and stood little chance of survival. Cullen then moved to Evangeline's side and made short work of her own opponent.

Evangeline looked back up at him in incredulity. That was...unexpectedly quick. And nothing short of amazing. He gazed down at her with a wide grin. He reached out and brushed loose and bloodied strands of hair from her face. "Well, would you look at that. We're not dead."

She sheathed her sword and swiftly stepped away from him. They dragged the women away from the fire and into an adjacent room. Evangeline bent over the two women. "Find some blankets. Or cloth. Anything."

Cullen retreated to do so.

Evangeline slapped the one woman who she had witnessed being force-fed lightly on the cheek. "Delphine? Delphine?"

But the more gaunt one beside her stirred instead. She muttered something incoherent. Evangeline leaned in closer. "Elgyn?" came the hoarse whisper.

Evangeline let out a relieved smile. "He sent us here. Elgyn sent us, Delphine. It's okay. You're okay now. Did they feed you anything?"

Delphine's emaciated face fell as she began to lose consciousness. Evangeline grasped the woman's chin to prevent her from doing so. "Delphine. You have to tell me if they fed you any meat."

Cullen had returned with large chunks of tanned leather. "Why is that important?" he asked as he began to cover up the two captives.

"I can't remember where I've read it...but they weren't feeding them meat out of the goodness of their hearts. It poisons them, I think."

Delphine, now partially awake again, pointed feebly in the direction of the burning throne room. "We become her when they feed us."

"Did you eat any of it?" repeated Evangeline earnestly. "Please, _please_ tell us. It's very important."

"No. Bread and water for...a while. They fed _her_ though."

"Who?" asked Cullen. "Ursula?"

"Uh...not her. The other thing. She was here when I arrived."

Her jaw set and rigid, Evangeline began to shake Ursula awake. The woman's eyelids fluttered open. "I need you to tell me how long they've been feeding you. Was today the first time?"

Ursula nodded.

Evangeline exhaled in relief. "Ursula? Honey, I'm going to have to make you throw up. I'm not going to hurt you, but what you've just been fed _needs_ to come out of your body. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She nodded again.

Evangeline propped the woman forward slightly with one arm. "Open your mouth, honey. Try as hard as you can to keep it open." she instructed. She then thrust two fingers into the back of the woman's tongue. Ursula gagged but coughed up nothing. With encouraging words, Evangeline repeated the motion several more times until Ursula finally retched, spilling out the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

* * *

><p>Evangeline ran a pair of exhausted hands along her face.<p>

"You deserve another one," said Wilhelm with an appreciative grin as he poured some whiskey into a cup. "What you and your friend have done...well, I don't think it can be repaid."

"Okay." she said, too fatigued to bother with civilities.

"My brother is...overjoyed. Losing her nearly destroyed him. And you gave him back his life in more ways than you realize."

She looked up at Wilhelm impassively. If only he knew just how close they'd come to losing both women. Consumption of Darkspawn flesh was fatal. They were a hair's breadth away from certain death. But now wasn't the time.

"Did you send a messenger to Brunswick? This place still needs to be fortified properly. We can't do too much without some reinforcements." she said.

He nodded. "Elgyn says that your companion is looking for you." Wilhelm pulled up a chair alongside her and sat down.

At that instant, Evangeline let out an exasperated groan and thunked her head on the table. Wilhelm started in surprise. Ignoring him, she repeated the action. Thrice. "_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_"

His eyes widened in alarm. "Are...you having a fit?" He made as if to rise up. "Should I go get help?"

"I am a _moron!_"

Wilhelm meekly pulled the cup of whiskey away from her. "I'll go get Cullen."

She leapt up suddenly and pointed at him, her eyes blazing at him furiously. "You will do _no_ such thing! You want to repay me? Then you'll not tell him where I am. You got that, bucko?"

"I...but the healer says Delphine is doing well. So well, in fact, that she wants to marry my brother tomorrow."

"_Who the bloody hell came up with that insane idea?_" exclaimed Evangeline harshly. "She needs to rest!"

"Well, part of it is because they want you both to be there. They want to thank you and hold a feast in your honour." His eyes flicked towards the doorway and back to Evangeline's rigid form. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She was well past panicked now. "No! No, I'm not _okay_! I just told him that I cared for him! Do you have any idea what this _means?_" She held both hands up in despair.

Wilhelm rose and moved a step away from her. He shook his head, _no_.

A knock sounded on the door and the pair froze. A few uncomfortable seconds passed before the knock sounded again. Evangeline attempted to pin Wilhelm in place with an icy stare. The terrified man managed to break away and crossed the room towards the door. All the while, Evangeline shook her head, started to breathe heavily and ran her clammy hands through her dark hair.

From this distance, indecipherable and muffled voices were all she could hear. She moved forward tentatively. After all, it could be any number of people out there.

"...fluids and rest." came Cullen's unmistakable voice.

_I gotta go._

_No – I can talk my way out of this one._

_How? It isn't as if you lied._

_I can pretend that I lied though – ha!_

_He knows you well enough by now to distinguish between a lie and a truth. And what the devil could you have gained by lying at that precise moment in time? He's not an imbecile._

_Okay. Wilhelm will keep him out there. He knows what's at stake._

"...the perimeter tomorrow morning before the wedding." said Cullen. "I...uh, have you seen Evangeline?"

Wilhelm muttered something incoherent, and Evangeline listened to the unmistakable sounds of the door widening and several footsteps thumping across the wooden floor.

_Fly, you fool!_

She dashed to the nearest window and used all her remaining strength to pry the sash open.

"Evie?" called out Cullen from the adjacent room.

She frantically thrust her person through the narrow opening and landed face-first into some shrubbery. She scrambled to get to her feet but the day's events combined with the one glass of whiskey had made her sluggish. She could hear his voice from inside Wilhelm's home.

"Evie – are you okay?"

Finally on her feet, she sped forward in desperation and didn't look back.


	14. Geronimo

**Author's note:**

God. This was the hardest chapter I've had to write so far. It was brutal and painful. Hope it was worth the agony.

A great many thanks and shout-outs to the following people: Tokugawa Blitzer, ExcidiumHawke, Gil Shalos1, RBurger, AnneRene and Jeadin. Thank you for putting up with my tripe.

A small tidbit: for those who've read Little Women, I threw in a nod to Alcott's tale towards the end.

Also, despite this story venturing into AU territory, I believe I will be moving forwards to the in-game events pretty soon. One thing I would love to get feedback on is if you think this seems too rushed. Is there anything you'd like me to cover or see before we head in that direction?

* * *

><p><strong>Geronimo<strong>

_**A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting.**_

A putrid stench wafted into her face. As luck would have it, its odour matched her dreams. _The truth smells_, said a voice within, _to deny is to lie_.

_Do you intend to sacrifice who you are for the sake of love?_

_**No.**_

_Why do you remain teetering on the edge?_

_**I want to rescue him.**_

_Is he worthy?_

_**Yes. Absolutely.**_

_Why? Because you believe he completes you?_

_**I...don't know.**_

_He does not complete you._

_**What?**_

_One and one make two. One and one don't result in one. It is mathematically impossible_.

_**That is irrelevant. Rationale does not encompass affairs of the heart**_.

_Have it your way. But all aspects of yourself – the logical, the emotional, the absurd._ _They are all...you_.

_**It's...I don't understand. That's not what they've told me**_.

_Who is they? Remember father, remember him taking you to that festival in mid-spring? They were worshipping deities not sacred to the Chantry. A religion so much older than Andraste, enveloped with a culture and history that many could learn from. Do you not recall the coloured lanterns in the evening light, each shade representing a treasured fable? Was there not knowledge and beauty in synchrony? Was there nothing to be learned and no purity to be appreciated? _

_Remember the onion you brought from the market? Mother told you to throw it away? But its life had begun to sprout, and in your innocence you wished to preserve it. Father told you that you would both plant it in the ground together. How could you possible reject the elegant wisdom in his actions?_

_**Father, in the white bed, not listening to any of us. His gentle fingertips swollen with inactivity. His breath ragged and choppy**_.

_You are and will always be your own person. You aren't half of a whole. If you wish to share your life with someone, love them and treasure them dearly, but you are no lesser on your own_. _Live your life, Starbuck. Remember all the people you used to be, but above all else, be happy_.

She awoke suddenly. A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. Unable to recollect her dream, and yet shrouded in an incomprehensible sadness, she beckoned humour to her side. What the devil was this monstrosity before her? It let out a guttural moo.

"I am looking at a cow's arse," she said, unaware that she was speaking out loud. _Good heavens_.

Evangeline sat up groggily. Beneath her palms, the ground felt strange. She was surrounded by scratchy, prickly shards of hay. Her mind waded briefly into her subconscious and then out again.

The animal clamored insistently. Good grief. Evangeline had never milked a cow in her short life. _What time was it, exactly?_ There was someplace she was supposed to be.

* * *

><p>Evangeline ran, fast as she could, out of the barn and to towards the perimeter of the village. She saw four figures ahead of her – that of Cullen's, Wilhelm's, the Mayor and another she did not recognize. The sun was almost high in the sky by the time she joined the small party.<p>

The Mayor seemed to be addressing Wilhelm, and she placed a body between herself and Cullen in order to avoid direct contact.

"I will see to it that our posted guards double their watch tonight."

"We do not wish to impose," said Wilhelm, somewhat apologetically.

The Mayor waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Balderdash. She was rescued from certain death. If the woman insists on marrying the man she loves, then we should not deny her such. Besides, I believe the people of Shepard's Crossing could use a dash of festivity." And then, on noticing Evangeline's impromptu appearance: "Ah, I'm glad you could join us. Your companion here," he gestured in Cullen's direction, "has been kind enough to offer a thorough inspection of our defenses."

"Which need to be significantly fortified," said Cullen – his voice grave.

"The reinforcements from Brunswick will be here by the morrow." replied the Mayor. He glanced at Wilhelm. "How go preparations for tonight's celebration?"

As Wilhelm replied, Evangeline felt something pick at her hair. Instinctively, she turned around to see Cullen extract something in his hands.

He leaned forward as he fingered a shard of dry grass, and whispered in her ear. "Nighttime excursions in the barn, I see?"

"I was tired." she responded, her voice low.

"Were you avoiding me?"

_Yes_. "No."

"Pants on fire." But he was smiling.

Evangeline swiftly changed topics. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing much. The perimeter needs a lot of patching up. We're probably going to have to remove the wood and replace it with fresher lumber. This may take a week or two. Hopefully, Brunswick will send enough men to get the job done faster. I've told the mayor about the city we found, and that we don't know if there are more Darkspawn thereabouts." said Cullen as the other three men walked ahead.

"He doesn't seem too concerned," she noticed.

"True. But whatever that _thing_ was...they seemed to revere her. _It_. Do you think it was _commanding_ them?"

The hackles at the back of her neck rose up in frightening recollection. "Honestly? I think she's their mummy. I think they needed her to...well, make more of them."

"Which would mean that there may not have been many to begin with, since there were only three of them protecting her," recognized Cullen. "They were so desperate to bolster their numbers that they kidnapped two more women. And did you see the other two? Shorter, thinner. Maybe they were much younger than the Hurlock."

She grinned. He caught on quick.

Without warning, she suddenly found her hand in his. The simple contact of skin on skin electrified her more than ever and she allowed him to grasp it tenderly in the shock of it all.

"Can we please go talk somewhere?" he asked her softly.

For whatever reason, Evangeline was rendered mute. Cullen smiled to himself as he never thought that possible, and realizing that he had that effect on her bolstered his confidence a degree.

He nodded his head to one side. "Come on, I know someplace quiet where we can talk."

She allowed herself to be led by the hand. After a few minutes of silent walking, she looked up to find themselves in a walled section behind the armory. He took both her hands in his and pulled her nearer to him.

"Tell me what you said before," Cullen requested.

_I don't believe in a Maker, but bloody hell, do I need one now_. He gazed at her unwaveringly and she couldn't meet his eyes. With Stroud, it was much easier. He was playful, light. This...this seemed to affect her more then she could have possibly imagined. "She's the Darkspawns' mummy...?" she ventured with little hope.

Cullen didn't smile but moved a step closer to her. "No. Before. In the throne room – while we were fighting." He paused briefly; Evangeline could tell that this was difficult for him as well, but he seemed determined to continue. "And don't you _dare_ lie to me, Evangeline."

She stammered. "I...may need a stiff drink first."

"I will get you that drink, and anything else that takes your fancy as long as you...uh..." his voice tapered off into silence.

_He's closing his eyes and leaning forward. Why are his eyes closing? Oh. Okay. I'm toast_. He reached out and put his hand around her neck and through her hair. And then he drew her closer and she found her eyelids closing as well. His forehead touched her own and he seemed content to remain that way for several moments as his breath quickened.

"I smell like cow poop." she said suddenly without opening her eyes.

"I know. Let's smell like cow poop together."

"We can't. I'm a...and you're a..." she began.

"I'll leave the Order. For you, I'll do anything."

Evangeline's eyes shot open. "That's not...right." She pulled away quickly. His words – they didn't _fit_. Everything he'd examined and deliberated earlier lay in direct contradiction to his current self. So what was this, then? _Lust?_ _Love?_ Love _could_ make fools of the most learned men.

Her eyes roved over his countenance. "If you look inside yourself, that's not what you truly want."

He seemed pained as she moved away and instinctively stepped closer. "I know what I want."

"Cullen...you can't – "

Before they could say anything, something short hurtled towards them and latched onto Evangeline's leg. She teetered and looked down in surprise to see a tear-stained boy clinging to her. She walked backwards – in an endeavor to break free, but he seemed to hold on all the tighter, getting dragged across the grass as she moved. Not quite adept at dealing with children, she stared at Cullen, helpless.

He crouched down and gently turned the child's face to him. "Are you alright?"

Snot trailed down the child's nose. "He's after me. He's _horrid_."

"Who?" Cullen wiped the boy's tears away with his hand.

"My brother. He's a bully." He finally let go of her leg.

Evangeline's shoulders dropped in relief. "Is that all? That's easy." The child looked at her as she went on. "Just step back, take a deep breath, count to five...and lunge full force at his eyes. Once you've impaired his vision, he'll be defenseless. He'll never see it coming."

Cullen quickly raised the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle a surging guffaw. He had to place one hand on the ground to prevent himself from toppling over. "You can't..." he said as he turned his head away from the young child. "...tell him to attack..." He finally caved and landed on his rear, laughing quite hysterically.

_Old-man laugh_, noticed Evangeline with affection. _Way to go, __**you**__. Way to let loose_.

The boy scrunched his face thoughtfully and scrutinized his hands. He seemed to study them in wonderment – regarding them as potential weapons rather than for typical use. "Poke his eyes out with my hands?" he said as he held them up.

"Uh...no," said Evangeline, reconsidering. "Pretend I didn't say that."

"But you did." said the child.

"Okay – _fine!_ I did say it, but I was wrong." She huffed wearily. "Look, let's just go find your brother."

He lowered his brows in grave concern. "My brother said I let my sister into our garden, and now there's water everywhere. He's mad at me. Ma's going to hit the roof's what he said."

* * *

><p>Cullen hefted and carried the boy, whose name was revealed to be Sol – after Soldemar, a warrior chieftain turned-Grey Warden during the fourth blight. Evangeline trudged alongside the pair – evidently somewhat worn already. Cullen shot a cursory glance in her direction. Her eyes were red-rimmed, quite possibly from a fitful night's rest in a barn, no less, and her typically pinned black hair was mussed and barely in place. She did reek somewhat of manure and faint darkened spots of the previous night's battle with Darkspawn speckled her cheeks and brow.<p>

And yet, in all her unkempt disarray, she was still beautiful. His compulsions towards her dove beneath her exterior, of course, as there were things that she said and did that betrayed a wilder nature he'd not quite witnessed in another being. That wasn't to say that she didn't have her failings. She could be flighty and impulsive. Sometimes maddeningly so. If she was never raised among a family that loved and cared for her – those that leapt in to save her from herself – she might very well have gone her own feral way.

And she could be – to put it diplomatically – a little abrasive. Cullen had always found himself wondering why someone as beautiful as Evangeline only seemed to attract the attention of a few admirers. Granted, there were frequent moments when heads would turn and eyes would covet when she entered a room, but she walked with eccentric, lengthy strides, and possessed a gamine demeanor that could have been off-putting to some. And then, acknowledged Cullen, she seemed to give little consideration to artfulness or discretion when she spoke.

But ultimately, she was herself, and had little patience for facades. During the instances where politicking was demanded of her, only Adric and he seemed to notice that the effort physically sapped her of her usual vigour. Shoulders would droop a degree, her eyes would dim and she became increasingly susceptible to aggravation.

But Maker help him, he loved every inch of her. How could he possibly not? She saw and drew out the best in him, and when he failed to recognize it, she would force him to on punishment of her wrath. The more time they spent together, the more uncomfortable it was becoming to be apart. He was not wracked with torment at temporary separation, but he was less patient, more irritable. And more importantly, it was as if the world was less colourful.

"See?" cried the boy as pointed to a small garden. "My sister's in our garden."

A pool of growing water had begun to transform the lush grass therein into a goopy, soggy, mess. Several men were attempting to divert the water from the house by digging furrows in the water-laden soil.

"_Maferath's balls_," muttered Cullen as he took a page from Evangeline's book and cursed without remorse. "You hit a cistern. How did you...?"

"I didn't hit my sister. I don't have one. I went digging for bones and then all the water came up – _poof!_" explained Sol, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Evangeline turned and looked at Cullen blandly. "Templars to the rescue?"

Cullen gently placed Sol down and rolled up his sleeves. He exhaled. "Why not."

* * *

><p>The sun had begun to dip towards the horizon before the crowd had managed to rescue Sol's home from its wet fate. Evangeline was certain that only a whittling knife could peel the many layers of grime that covered her skin. As soon as the job was declared complete, she made a beeline for the cool waters of a running stream. She dried and dressed herself, and with an appreciative sniff of her no-longer-cow-poop-smelling armpits, she trudged towards Elgyn's home to seek the comforting solace of dry sheets and a soft mattress and pillow.<p>

She climbed in through a window in order to avoid the bustle within the living-room. It fluttered in animation as a group of Delphine's female relatives gave it their all to make the weakened – yet rapidly-recovering Delphine – the prettiest bride hereabouts. Evangeline smiled at the induced nostalgia. It was only about two years ago that Annette, Claudia and her Elena attempted to make her presentable for mother's salon. Up to the moment when Bunty had made his illustrious entrance, the evening had been tolerable.

She lay an exhausted head against the pillow and began to drift off.

Something thwacked at the window. She shut her eyes tighter. She was so tired that she must already be dreaming.

_Thwack_.

Considerably aggravated, she shot up and yanked the sash up in anger. She stared into the round, beaming face of Sol.

"_You again!_" she exclaimed.

He placed his little arms on the sill and began to heave himself inwards. Evangeline gaped at his audacity. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" he asked as he sat beside her on the bed. He started to smooth down his formal suit as he made himself comfortable.

"Because I'm tired and I want to sleep."

"Aren't you supposed to be there?" he questioned.

It was true; part of the reason for this celebration was to thank the two Templars for their courage. But Cullen was there. And surely he would accept their gratitude on her behalf as well. She remained silent.

"The tents and all are set up. They look pretty." Sol reached up and began to stroke her hair. "You don't smell anymore."

Annoyed as she was, she found the gesture irritatingly endearing. "I washed."

"Where's your dress?"

Evangeline glared at him. "So this is what you do when you're not digging tunnels halfway across Thedas? You bother people with these inane questions?"

Sol removed a small pouch that was attached to his person and pulled out a slice of warm bread. The scent of garlic and melted butter caused Evangeline's mouth to salivate. She gave him a hesitant look. "A vandal _and_ a thief. Are you trying to bribe me? Because it won't work."

Sol reached in again and pulled out a recently-baked dumpling. Then a strawberry tart. And finally, a slice of rum cake. Each time he presented an item, he studied her face expectantly. _Expectant for what_, wondered Evangeline?

"Will you dance with me tonight?"

Unaware that she had already stuffed half of the garlic bread in her mouth, she sputtered. "_Wof?_" Annette, in the background – looking aghast._ Manners – Evie!_ She quickly brought a hand to her face, chewed and then swallowed. "I...only dance with one person." And then, upon reconsideration. "Well, I suppose I did dance with one boy. But only a few times."

"Who did you dance with all the time?" asked Sol.

"My sister, Elena. When we had to go to festivals, we'd sneak off halfway through and people-watch. And then we'd dance together. Whichever way we wanted to." She held out an open hand and nodded at the warm dumpling. "Now don't be a miser and share that with me. I haven't eaten a bite since last night."

Sol broke it in half and offered it to her. "I brought you food," he said pointedly.

Evangeline nodded. "That you did." She leaned forward and peered at him very directly. "Now why, out of _all_ the pretty girls in this entire village, are you hounding me?"

"Because you look at me when you talk." he said, matter-of-factly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I've quite settled in for this evening."

"So are you going to just sit here and cry?" Sol thrust his little finger into a nostril and began to pick his nose.

She smiled uncertainly. "I...no. What makes you think I want to cry? I just want to sleep."

"I want to dance."

She waved a dismissive hand in the air. "So go dance with someone else."

"But only you dance the way I like."

Evangeline let out a loud chortle. "How would _you_ know? I haven't danced since...well, now, I can't remember."

"What are you waiting for? You should have fun."

She scowled at Sol. "Stop being so insightful, you precocious thing."

"What?"

_Fine. I'll bite._ "If you really must know, maybe I am a _little_ sad."

"Why?"

"I want something really badly. And it's there for the taking, if I want it. But the...this thing that I want, it isn't ready."

"I ate a horrible apple once. It was sour. Ma said it wasn't ripe."

She smiled broadly at him. And there it was. Beauty and wisdom in one spectacular creation. She cupped her chin in her hand. "What do you propose I do then, Soldemar?"

He shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance. "Wait till the apple's ripe, I guess. Are you going to eat the cake?"

She held the cake out of his reach. He flailed an arm out in frustration, but she didn't relent. "What if the apple never ripens? What would _you_ do?"

"I'm not going to wait for it. I'm going to dance. I don't care if you come with me or not, I just wanted to ask. I'm going to dance either way."

She relinquished the rum cake.

* * *

><p>The wedding itself was a quick affair. The betrothed pledged their I-dos and succumbed to a hopeful, rapture of applause and well-wishes. In the aftermath that followed, a band took their assigned places as percussion, strings and brass instruments began to liven the air around him.<p>

Lanterns and candles graced the linings and tables of the large tent. A lot of careful preparation had gone into tonight's festivities as people hoisted the cloth canopy up hours before, decorated the tables with wildflowers and translucent, coloured ornaments. Cullen had his misgivings about this night; especially in the light of the Darkspawn attacks. But he had seen to their defenses personally and the village guard was doubled.

In addition to that, Cullen was never one for chirpy social events. But this was significantly less formal, and the villagers seemed eager for ceremonial proceedings and the joviality that followed. _Huh. _Maybe she was right. Maybe he needed to let loose. At least a little. He poured himself an ample cup of whiskey, and as its warmth began to course through him, he could feel his muscles uncoil.

She eventually showed up; contrary to all of his predictions.

Cullen was prepared to weather this event without her. Evangeline was evidently quite exhausted, and as much as he'd needed to continue their conversation, he was aware that she needed some space. To rest, recuperate and possibly think things over. He hadn't expected to see her until the following morning. And then, when she appeared – in a cream, somewhat-loose fitting, dress several inches shorter than what was traditional – just below the knees, he couldn't keep his eyes off her. She wore her hair up, as per the norm, but had allowed for some slack that betrayed a femineity he was not accustomed to. She wore no rouge, no blaunchet-laden foundation, no fancy baubles or jewelry. But of course she had to add her own deft touch of rebellion – she had marched to the floor barefoot. He watched her, unaware that he was beaming, as she picked up a cup off some random table and guzzled its contents.

And then it hit him it like a boulder.

Whoever had persuaded her to come to the dance must have been someone far superior – in appearance _and_ merit – to himself.

A time-honoured verse began to play as he sat down, resigned to his fate. After the newly-married couple took to the floor, several others followed suit in organized succession. Cullen polished off the last of his whiskey. Being in the intermediate stages of inebriation, it took him several moments to search for her partner. She was clearly dancing with someone. But...either they were nonexistent or were significantly lacking in stature. He staggered to his self-punishing feet to catch a peek.

As each couple assumed such well-rehearsed steps, he could not – for the life of him – locate him. A minute later, his eyeline lowered a fraction and finally the saw the form of the seven-year-old boy. He sank back into his chair in a relieved humour. _Sol_. She was dancing with Sol. But she didn't seem to be having much fun.

Being of noble rank, she was evidently accustomed to the ritualistic, yet passive, maneuvers that encompassed the long-established, newly-wedded score. But she appeared bored, as did her much, _much_ younger partner. Perhaps when Sol became disinterested, he could take over.

The melody concluded. He stepped towards the floor before a swift movement out of his peripheral vision caught his attention. _Blessed Andraste_, it was Nerys. She was such a sweet girl, pretty in all that was dainty and feminine, that it incurred in him a sense of remorse for not being able to reciprocate her feelings. But, Maker forgive him, he had no intention of cavorting with anyone other than Evangeline. His palms grew cold and clammy. He sluggishly searched for a way out but was unintentionally cornered by several noisome young men behind him. He let out a soft, yet panicked, whimper as he swiveled around.

All of a sudden, his memories jogged back to a guiltless time. _Evangeline, dodging Stroud as she hid behind moving cover_.

A woman, shrouded in a bouffant headdress, and an embellished, pouf-like gown swept by him. He ducked behind the ornamented dancer and escaped Nerys' notice.

* * *

><p>After the first few slow dances, Cullen had managed to hide behind a raucous family. He kept a close eye out for Evangeline and a wary one for the every-ready Nerys, but found neither. He flicked a few breadcrumbs off his thin, white lapel and initiated this nerve-wracking vigil. A fresh whiskey bottle at his side – he sipped at it for fortitude's sake. Neither Sol nor Evangeline lingered amongst the crowd. He made a solid effort to remain well-hidden from Nerys. The matriarch of this family he'd employed as cover was a rather wide woman. A brood of at least three flocked to her side.<p>

Every two minutes or so, Cullen conducted a cursory examination of that which lay behind him. He had to admit, despite the consumption of one bottle of rum and now a second bottle of whiskey, Nerys' presence invoked a fear that compelled him to shoot straight for a privy. _Look_, he told himself. _She's a decent kid. But let's face it, she's more suited to a life of security and stability. Not one of clanking swords and the heat of battle_.

_**Is that what you wish to expose Evie to, **_asked a voice?

_No. Once Evie finally understands, we'll make a new beginning. Hopefully one that doesn't involve violence_.

Cullen twirled the near-empty bottle in his hands. All philosophical musings aside, where the devil was his Evie girl?

So this is what feeling tipsy was like. He was certainly not slight nor skinny but it seemed to take only three drinks in succession to slacken his judgment and allow him to entertain new possibilities.

Cullen failed to notice a swarthy, older man take a seat beside him.

"If only they knew what they were dancing to," muttered Cullen's elder in delight.

Cullen turned a plastered head in his direction. "_Wassat?_" he asked.

"Have you ever subjected yourself to Rivaini music, boy?" The man, his raven hair flecked with streaks of grey, offered a superior grin in Cullen's direction.

Cullen scratched his head in what he believed to be thoughtfulness. "Been there once. Not long enough to appreciate the culture."

"See those numbskulls?" gestured the older man to the crowd on the dancing floor. "They're dancing like some stagnant Orlesians. Too slow. Too ritualistic. Not enough emotion. And Delphine's father is from Rivain too. What a shame."

"It's a wedding. It doesn't get more emotional than this."

"What backwater isle were _you _raised on, boy?"

Cullen remained unaffected. He held out a shaky hand. "Cullen." he said, introducing himself. "Templar and considerably unlucky in love."

"Trent," said the elder as he offered his own and chuckled. "And aren't we all."

Cullen held up a wobbly bottle in Trent's direction. With a knowing grin, Trent clinked his own against Cullen's.

"There's two parts to this song, you know," launched Trent as he resumed his observation of the dancers. "Partners aren't supposed to be that close nor prude as a rule. And there are male and female portions to this song."

"_Prude?_" mumbled Cullen.

"Conventional. Traditional. _Boring_. Leastways, that's what my dear departed Idris would say."

"You lost your wife recently?" asked an empathetic Cullen.

Trent snorted. "It seems recent. But if we're keeping record, it's been almost eight years to the day now."

"What was she like?"

Trent eyed the floor in recollection. "Bit of a fireball. Reminded me of a horse I had in my youth. Couldn't tame the ruddy blighter, but once you proved how much you loved the darned thing, it was putty in your hands." He chuckled as he drank more liquor from his cup. "Well. Maybe not _complete _putty. The alluring aspect of it was that it _allowed_ you have your way, while simultaneously having you believe that you were in control. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe that's the nature of love."

"I...wouldn't know," said Cullen with considerable self-pity.

Trent didn't seem to take notice. Instead, he'd looked away slapped his thigh with enthusiasm and cried out. "Now _that's_ how we used to dance it!"

Cullen traced his line of sight. At the edge of the classical cavorting, stood his Evangeline and Sol. She glugged something and then tossed the container aside. The pair stood a few feet apart. The heart of the breathy, rhythmic music seemed to seep through to her bones. Sol appeared reluctant at first. She seemed to relinquish her movements to carefree abandonment. Sol scanned the crowd for the disapproving glances of his parents. Admonishment not forthcoming, he allowed his limbs to mimic Evangeline's own and the pair began cavorting without a care in the world.

The song ended quickly and Evangeline and Sol disappeared amongst the crowd.

"What do you mean – how you used to dance to it?" Cullen asked Trent, perplexed.

"A lot of Rivaini traditional songs are a tad...controversial. I suppose if I were to narrow it down, some are pointedly provocative. What you've just heard is a tamer version of – _Andraste, preserve me_ – could it be?" Trent almost roared in his excitement. "Now hush up, boy, and listen to this one. Watch as those prancing fools have no idea as to what they're moving to."

Cullen finally caught sight of Evangeline and her new dance partner. Sol remained seated in her lap as she swayed slowly with her arms about him, and somewhat sadly, to a tune. He was surprised that she had taken to him so. She didn't seem overly fond of children, yet here she was, her cheek rested against Sol's brown hair. As the song's somber tone grew in crescendo, she seemed to be mouthing words that he couldn't discern.

"What? What's so number about this special?" Cullen shook his head to clear out the fog. "I mean, what's so special about this number?"

Trent eyed him with a wisdom that only age could elicit. "I swear, some of these Ferelden barbarians will dance to _anything_. This one, boy, is about a man who's had to leave everything behind to go to war. But years after fighting – he finds out that he's returned to a home that's twisted beyond recognition. His homestead no longer upholds the law nor tolerates do-gooders, so they run him out of town." Trent took a sip out of his chalice. "Your friend seems content to sit this one out. Perhaps she's aware of its weight."

"_My friend?_" said Cullen in astonishment.

"The girl you keep looking at, boy." Trent let out a derisive snort. "I may be a geriatric old lout, but I'm not senile. Look, do me a damned favour and ask her to dance. It's not as if you face some serious competition. Well, not in the near future anyway."

"Uh...if she wanted to dance, she'd have sought me out," explained Cullen.

"In the beginning, Idris never chased after me," recalled Trent. "Knew that the stubborn mule loved me, but she was far too proud to admit it."

Cullen gave Trent a skeptical glance. "So how did you...?"

"I waited, I suppose. Some things are worth waiting for. In the end, she was the one who sought me out."

Cullen gazed at a bouquet of white orchids; attempting to process Trent's words. Maybe Trent was right. Maybe he needed to step his game up. He pressed his lips to his bottle and chugged. After all, he didn't know if he'd have the gumption to do this otherwise.

"How should I – " he commenced before being interrupted.

Trent shot him a cantankerous expression. "Ask a simple question. Be direct."

Cullen chuckled in disbelief. "Surely it can't be that easy."

Trent shrugged. "Only if you want it to be. But you may have missed your chance. I can't see your lady friend anywhere."

Cullen quickly directed his gaze to the crowd. Trent was right. Evangeline had slipped away again. He squinted and saw the diminutive form of Sol approach the minstrel and her accompanists. He rose and navigated the crowd in order to follow the child.

* * *

><p>Cullen remained no more than two feet away and overheard the boy talk.<p>

The songstress paused as the instrumental portion of her tune proceeded sans vocals. She leaned in to hear Sol speak. "Can you play this one?" Sol asked as he whispered something into her ear.

She seemed a mite shocked. "Are you sure? The tempo's quite fast. It's not...exactly newly-married material."

"S'okay," persisted Sol. "You can just play the other bits. She said you don't have to sing."

"Who did?" questioned the perplexed minstrel.

"Nobody. Just the three songs that go together and we promise we won't ask for nothing else."

The woman conceded. "I suppose there's no harm in...well, alright, child. Just the three though, okay? And only after we're done with the next two."

Sol gave her captivating and impish grin which she couldn't help but return.

_You cheeky devil_, thought Cullen, as he watched Sol maneuver past the throng. Cullen maintained a reasonable distance behind the boy in slow pursuit.

* * *

><p>As Evangeline hung up the third lantern to the crabapple tree, she stepped back to observe her handiwork. In the stillness of the night, with the coloured lanterns against the starry sky, she let her guard down and her eyes grew somber. She gave a grim smile as she realized that she had often caught Asogen looking out the ocean with this very expression.<p>

_How could you possibly be smiling at a time like this? Don't you feel the least bit remorseful? _

_**Of course I do**__._

_You can't walk away from all of this, Evangeline. You run from everything_.

She remembered something Asogen had said once: "There's a distinction between running and walking away. Some men will stand and face danger. There's a touch of naivety, fear, the lies you tell yourself to follow through. And great courage. People like that. They love a hero.

"Then there are some who will run away. People can't abide a coward. But they fail to recognize that fear makes weaklings of us all. And then...then you have the man who walks away. He holds little regard for glory and battle. He is finished with them both. So he puts aside his weapon and turns his back on it. He steps away slowly, with no concern for his life, and leaves the fools to their blades and blood."

_**Being a Templar seems to muddy the lines between protection and murder. I have to leave before I'm unable to make that discrimination**__._

_Fine. But what about Cullen?_

_**He is not ready to leave. You can see it in his eyes. If he left now, he'd hate me at the end of it**__._

_But you love him, don't you?_

_**So much that I have to let him go**__._

_And what next? You go back to Alec?_

_**He and I...that chapter's over**_.

_But what do we do now?_

Evangeline turned to see Sol climbing up the gentle slope of the hill towards her.

_**Now we dance**_.

* * *

><p>Still mired in a buzz from the drinks he'd consumed, Cullen found that he had to keep a close eye on the path before him. The hill wasn't steep, by any means, but his navigation was off kilter. As he crept behind a copse of birches to watch the pair dance, his conscience pricked him. He felt like a bit of a voyeur. Had he been sober, he'd have been terribly aghast at his actions.<p>

He'd never quite seen anyone dance like that before. In contrast to the lumbering, yet precise, movements underneath the canopy, Evangeline's was paced faster and so much livelier. Sol, too seemed to be a quick learner, and the odd couple would snort with laughter as they attempted to execute awkward maneuvers with their limbs. Finally, the music from the tents below paused, but Sol kept dancing much to Evangeline's delight. And then, as it resumed, he gave an excited little hop.

"It's the song we asked for!" he cried.

"Okay, now remember, this is going to be much faster, so you're going to have to try to keep up with me. Got it?" said Evangeline.

Sol nodded rapidly. He spun around to look at the people below. Once the tune had commenced, Sol's face fell. The crowd, unaccustomed to the quick tempo, quickly trickled off the pavilion.

"They're going to stop playing if no one's dancing!" wailed Sol. Then he leapt forward and seized Evangeline's hand. "Come on – let's go down there."

Evangeline snatched her hand back. "_Oh no_. Not with that lot watching me. You must be off your rocker."

"But you said we should dance however we want to and not care about what others think," he gave her a morose, plaintive gaze that he'd clearly refined over his short life.

Evangeline scowled. "Must you be so literal?"

"You're chicken."

"Damn right I'm chicken. They'll make a comedic routine out of us."

Sol's feigned melancholy vanished. Evidently it had little effect on her. He folded his arms across his chest. "What's the point of telling me all that when you don't do what you say? All you're doing is pretending."

She glowered at him. She wondered if this was how her sisters felt when her arguments had been sound and irrefutable. She breathed out and declared him victorious. "Okay. Fine. But let me just another drink first. Maker knows I'm going to need it."

* * *

><p>Sol began move his arms and feet to the quick tempo. The melody seemed to infect and possess his little frame. For several moments, Evangeline glanced at the disapproving throng that stood on the sidelines. <em>Maferath's arse<em>, they were not enjoying this one bit, were they? And yet Sol, already a proficient artist, bounced about in perfect rhythm. He placed his hands on his hips and moved them from side to side like she'd taught him earlier. He winked.

Evangeline rolled her eyes heavenwards and laughed loudly. Oh what the hell.

_Geronimo_.

She leapt into it head-first with her eyes closed. She let the beat pulse its way through her ears and into her mind. This was no gentle song; it was ice and fire, it was _life_, it nudged and eventually tugged her into its soul. It told her that sorrow was inevitable, but so was joy. _The trick is_, crooned the music, _to let the good bits light the dark_.

Elena cavorting artlessly alongside her. Claudia flirting shamelessly with the next boy in line. Annette looking on with displeasure. Mother holding her tight to her breast. Bunty galloping across a dance floor like a force of nature. Asogen reading portions of the Qun out loud. Adric's devotion for Peter.

Her heart sang as she opened her eyes and saw that three people had joined their small party. They looked to both Sol and Evangeline for guidance as none of them had ever frolicked like this a day in their young lives. The older and more conservative crowd tutted at this revelry.

Evangeline surveyed the bystanders for more victims. Nerys was leaning against a tent-pole with an amalgam of awe and denunciation. Evangeline pranced towards her and yanked the blonde girl onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" she protested.

Evangeline shook her shoulders and slid her feet to the beat. "Work those hips, Nerys!"

"_What?_" Nerys paled.

"Come on, don't pretend you don't want to." Evangeline winked at her just as Sol had earlier. "Let the rebel loose."

Nerys bobbed her head lightly.

"What the devil do you call that – _a nervous twitch?_" Evangeline gestured at her own body. "The entire thing, woman! Move like you _mean_ it!"

Wilhelm summoned the courage to join the growing group. "I...uh...might be able to help with that. Come on, Nerys." He grasped her hands and started to coerce her into moving. Nerys relented with a demure yet dazzling grin.

Evangeline whooped.

As she looked around her, four more people trickled in. Their eyes shone in gaiety as they waded into the moment. A younger girl, no more than eight, sidled up to Sol. Being the precocious imp that he was, he turned and wiggled his bum at her. She reciprocated the action. The pair locked arms and spun around in dizzying circles.

"Looks like you lost your dance partner," said an older man who stepped in. "The name's Trent." He began to mirror Evangeline's motions perfectly.

"You're from Rivain!" she laughed.

"This music is in my bones, lass." Trent slid his feet from side to side. "I'll probably regret all of this tomorrow morning but, my heavens, it feels amazing right now. I wish my Idris could see me making a fool out of myself."

"And what would that make me?" asked Evangeline mischievously.

Trent chuckled. "You're right. Let's stir things up a tad. Devil take propriety and shove it up his sodding arse!" He pivoted deftly in place. "After all, we're the ones having a ball unlike those sorry stiffs over there." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the still onlookers.

And then, something caught his eye and he paused momentarily.

"Don't stop now," urged Evangeline. "We're just getting to the good part!"

"Keep dancing, lass," he said as he patted her arm. "Save this one for me, I'll be back in two shakes."

With partly lidded eyes, she danced in place while waiting for Trent's return. A pair of feet stumbled into frame. She waited for them to move, but they remained as rigid as stone. She lifted her gaze to find the coloured face of Cullen before her.

Taken completely by surprise, she froze.

Why had she stopped dancing, wondered Cullen? _It's you, you blundering imbecile_. She'd just as soon fling herself over a waterfall than cavort with him. "I...uh...I should probably go. Left feet. Two of them." He spun so as to leave when a tanned arm materialized from the growing crowd and shoved him back to his original position.

Evangeline was rarely ever self-possessed, but she was accustomed to being in control. She had mostly made peace with her ponderous decision and the consequences thereof. But Cullen's sudden appearance knocked her resolve to the floor like a house of cards. _Damn him_.

"You're not dancing," observed Cullen in apprehension.

Evangeline attempted to move her body but all efforts at coordination misfired. "I didn't know you could dance. Or that you wanted to." she said.

"I don't...I mean, I do. It's just that I've never danced like this before."

"When was the last time you did?" questioned Evangeline.

"I don't really remember. I think it was when I was a child."

She considered him, dubiously. "I don't think you have two left feet. Anyone who can dispatch two Darkspawn in the matter of a few minutes is not as huge a klutz as he would have someone believe."

"There is a difference," he argued.

She inhaled deeply. "So are we going to stand around and ponder the various degrees of your potential clumsiness or are we going to dance?"

"Uh..."

_Good grief_. She needed an ice-breaker. Where logic ends, absurdity begins. "Say: _Geronimo_."

"I...what?"

"_Geronimo_. Say it." And upon further consideration, "But with feeling. You have to say it like you own it."

"I fail to see where this going," he noted.

"Like this – _Geronimo!_" And she suddenly broke out dancing as she raised her hands in the air.

He tapped into his rapidly draining reserves of courage. _Let's do this_. "Geronimo!" echoed Cullen loudly. And then his heart sang along to his moving body.

* * *

><p>Evangeline raced from the pavilion once the minstrel had begun the slower numbers. Her determination to leave him, someone so precious and dear, had started to fracture. <em>He'll hate you for it in the end. He's not ready to leave, that much is clear<em>.

"You can lead a horse to water," she mumbled to no one in particular.

She approached the darkened abode that had become her temporary home and ventured into the guestroom to begin packing. She lit a lamp in the corner and leapt in shock as the flame illuminated a figure sitting on the bed. He sat at the edge of the mattress, leaning forward with clasped hands before him. He regarded her with a blend of pain and longing.

Cullen crossed the room and stood mere inches away from her. Heart thumping with surprise and the proximity of his person, she had to fixate on moving curtains to still this unstable situation. Breathing almost status quo, he spoke before she could.

"I have loved you since the moment I clapped eyes on you."

_Aaand there goes the breathing again_, she thought as her pulse skyrocketed.

"Look into my eyes and tell me you don't feel the same." he added.

"I...can't."

"Then tell me you don't love me."

"Can't."

"Can't or won't?" he demanded.

She began to shake her head. "I should never have – "

Before she could react, he pressed his lips – neither gentle nor rough – onto hers. It was so wonderfully acute and intense; there was that sense of ice and fire magnified a thousand-fold. _Alive_. Was that an apt description? He seemed to drink her in, and she did all she could to prevent her knees from buckling. _Hold the line_, cried a rapidly diminishing inner voice.

He pulled away slightly, breathless. "_Geronimo_," he murmured, as he relinquished a loving smile.

Evangeline couldn't help but laugh.

And then, they collided into each other again. But this time she had completely yielded to his warmth and kissed him back with a passion almost equal to his own. His hands wandered from the small of her neck slowly down to her lower back. Hers were slowly fumbling for the buttons of his shirt. Finally unfastened, she ran her fingers tenderly along his stomach and chest. She then pressed herself up against him and allowed him to unlace the back of her dress.

As her dress and his shirt tumbled to the floor, he let out a soft, impatient moan. She wore nothing else save for her underthings, and there she stood, his impulsive, feral creature. His best friend and soon, his lover. His fingers floundered about struggling to undo his belt without much success and the pair chuckled as they tried to unbuckle it together. Free of his cloth trappings, he found it rather entertaining that she strove to avoid staring at his masculinity below.

She was breathing hard with closed eyes as he ran his fingers from her face down her neck and started to slip her undergarments off. His fingers left behind an electric trail like nothing her senses had ever felt. He led her to a small table in the room, picked her up gently and sat her on it as he tenderly guided her legs around him. She let out a sharp breath of air as he pushed himself closer, and the gasp further fueled the fire inside him.

A loud rap sounded at the door to the bedroom.

The pair froze.

And there it was again. "Ser Cullen?" called out a voice. It was Wilhelm.

"What!" said Cullen, almost shouting.

"I heard noises and wanted to make sure you're alright."

"We – I'm fine!"

"Are you sure? It sounds like you're in pain," persisted Wilhelm.

"I'm not. Really. Just...um...indigestion."

"Okay." said Wilhelm. "I ate too many dumplings too." And then he was gone.

"I can't do this." muttered Evangeline suddenly.

"What? No." cried Cullen. "I'll be gentle. I promise."

"Us. _This_. You're not ready."

"I'm the one who would know, don't you think, Evie?"

"You'll hate me forever. You're not ready to leave them. I know you're not. I couldn't bear it if you hated me. I'd rather see you with someone else."

"Evie...I could never hate you. Screw the Templars. We could have something real. Not many get this chance."

She regarded him with sad recognition. "The Cullen I know, the real one, he would _never_ have chucked aside what he once believed so strongly in."

"You don't agree with their tenets either. Why are you trying to make me stay?" his voice was tinged with confusion and a modicum of sorrow. "We can make this work. I swear I'll be a saint. I'll never hurt you and I'll let you win every argument. And anywhere you want to go, I'll be by your side."

Evangeline gently stroked his temple and cheek with a somber smile. "Cully Wully. You can't even stop arguing now."

He pressed his forehead against hers and chuckled.

She slid off the table. "But I have to go."

"Please." he begged. How had he let this happen? How could they have gone from _that_ to _this_? His voice came out hoarse. "_Please_. Stay. Evie."

His soft tone pierced her soul and as she attempted to dress herself, her eyes grew moist and the flood began.

"Don't," he said as he placed a hand on the table to steady himself. "You can't."

He stumbled to the cold floor as she walked out.


	15. To Gather What's Mine

**Author's note:**

I'm fairly certain that the next chapter will introduce the familiar in-game world, because – being a coward of a writer – I don't enjoy tormenting these characters. But a segway was necessary, and this is where this chapter comes in. I hope the transition doesn't come across as too jarring. It is also noticeably shorter in comparison to its predecessors.

I had far too many ideas and in order to explore them all, we'd have to tediously wade through several more chapters of backstory. I don't know about you, but I'm not that patient.

Thanks muches for all your kind words of encouragement. Your time is precious, so thank you for choosing to use some of it up to write reviews.

* * *

><p><strong>To Gather What's Mine<strong>

**Stroud**

Worried as Evangeline was about confessing truths and parting ways with Stroud, she needn't have bothered. She returned to a town in disarray. And that was putting it mildly. Walking corpses and devils from the Fade had claimed many lives. Every night for the past two weeks, the undead poured out of Arl Eamon's castle to torment the townsfolk. It was rumoured that the Arl's son, Connor, had somehow succumbed to possession and was indirectly responsible for the turmoil.

But two Grey Wardens and their companions – very likely the same ones that had set things right at the Circle Tower – had restored order, and the town was shakily rising to its feet.

Evangeline arrived at Stroud's small shack by the docks to find it empty. A loud din sounded from the neighbour's next door – that of falling furniture, high pitched barking and mournful howling. _Bunty_, realized Evangeline, as she sped towards the clamor. The inhabitants opened their front door a fraction, but it was all the dog needed to knock his temporary caretakers to the floor and race towards his beloved mistress. Bunty greeted her with all the innocence and purity that animals possessed in abundance. Being a rather large dog, he stood on his rear legs and put both front paws on her shoulders before showering her with numerous, slobbery kisses. Her heart welcomed the gesture with joy and relief. In that moment, she had forgotten all about what had transpired only a few days ago.

_Never going to let you go again, you absurd creature_, she thought as she hugged him back with equal fervor.

The girl and her dog returned to Stroud's abode. An envelope addressed to her, coated with several layers of dust, sat on his mantelpiece. The letter read that he'd finally found his calling. He had joined the Grey Wardens. What better way meld adventure and wanderlust? He had apologized for not being able to say goodbye properly, and thanked her for some of the best memories of his life.

A touch of guilt pricked her conscience, as she found solace in the fact that she would no longer need to summon her already dwindling resolve to reveal sad truths.

With Bunty trotting beside her, the pair strode off towards the Templar compound at the heart of the town.

* * *

><p><strong>Adric<strong>

In her absence, Adric had returned to his Templar duties in Redcliffe. But he was nowhere to be found. She made several inquiries and was told that he was recovering at the Chantry. _Recovering_, she asked? _Recovering from what?_ One of the older Templars confessed that the boy had tried to take his own life. The revelation struck her like a thunderbolt. _Why, _she demanded? They didn't know.

Evangeline raced to the Chantry with Bunty in tow and wandered its interior in desperation. She stumbled into a ward where they treated the injured. He lay on the bed, gaunt, pale, fractured. White gauze was wrapped around both wrists. And she groaned as the line between emotional and physical pain blurred. She knelt by his sleeping side, grasped his hand and brought it to her chest as she began to weep.

_What did they do to you?_

His lids fluttered open and he regarded her as one would an improbability, a specter. She caressed his face tenderly and kissed his cold forehead. As she pulled away he mumbled in a barely audible whisper.

_Peter._

Her eyes widened in realization. At a loss for words, she crawled onto his bed and laid his head in her lap. As she stroked his light brown hair, she fixed her gaze at the Chantry walls in determined hatred.

_I'm here, Adric. No more running away from the people I love. I've come back to gather what's mine. And I'm going to bring you both with me. I'm going to take you so very far from this place. I'm going to protect you. Keep you safe. They can't hurt you with me here. Just let the bastards try_.

Almost as if he had read her mind, the corners of Adric's sleeping mouth twitched into a weak smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Asogen<strong>

He stared with growing incredulity as she climbed the stairs to the Qunari compound. She was accompanied by a young man about the same age. Her Mabari trotted behind them. His expression morphed into the darkest of thunderclouds. What the devil was she doing here? Kirkwall was rapidly contorting towards a breaking point. Something would give sooner rather than later. And hadn't he explicitly told her to stay away?

Evangeline beamed fondly in response to his anger.

_I'm going to fling you out the gates myself_, he declared.

She paid him no mind and reached into a bag. She pulled out a small parcel, its wrappings worn and yellowed. She grasped Asogen's hand and placed the item in his open palm.

_I want you to give it to me_, she said. _In person_.

Still scowling, yet inwardly pleased to see her, he did as she asked. He opened his gift to her and somberly placed a leather cord which ran through a dragonling's tooth over her neck. And then, without warning, she threw her arms around him.

_Come with me_, she asked. _Leave this place. Together, we would make Tal-Valshoth look pretty darned good_.

For a minute, his mind entertained the possibility. He had to admit that being free of the trappings of the Qun would relieve him of numerous burdens. But this weight had shaped him. It was all he had ever known. If he'd been younger, then perhaps a new path would have suited him. But now? It was too late for that.

He declined the offer in sorrow.

_Then be the one that walks away_. _If you don't wish to come with me, walk away, I implore you. This place isn't you. This fight isn't yours. Leave them to their mad devices and walk away_.

He told her that he would consider it. And it was the truth.

And then he gave her one final parting gift. He grasped her hand and inspected it gravely. It trembled involuntarily. He looked at her companion, who, upon understanding what Asogen was observing, relinquished his own quivering hand. His face sober, Asogen looked back and forth from the pair. These were only the minor effects of Lyrium withdrawal. It had the potential to reach severe heights, and proved fatal to some.

He left for several minutes and returned with a flask of liquid and a parchment that held its recipe. Only to be consumed when the pain was unbearable, and no, it wasn't liquor. But it would help nullify their cravings and over time it should stop them entirely.

Asogen looked at the pair and told them to watch out for one another. There's a storm coming and it wouldn't be wise to weather it alone.

He bid them farewell and walked back to his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Elena<strong>

They slammed the door on outsiders and fought with angry words unlike any they'd used before. Adric stood in the corner of the room in muted gravity. Evangeline, who possessed the much quicker temper, insisted – for the hundredth time – that Elena leave Kirkwall. She was going to make her life very difficult if she didn't listen.

Elena, already with child for four months, began to wear down.

_Where do you expect me to go in this condition?_

_Back home. To mother. Adric and I will personally escort your entire household to Ostwick. Once Kirkwall returns to normalcy, you can come back_.

_But Kirkwall __**is**__ normal, _argued Elena.

_An Arishok, not just any Qunari, but a bloody Arishok and his entourage sit within Kirkwall. The Chantry and Templars are tightening their hold on mages and stepping over boundaries they'd never crossed before. Something is going to give_. _And when it does, as such events typically unfold, innocents will get caught in the crossfire_.

Evangeline told her that she and Adric would not leave her home until she saw things their way.

That was where Evangeline's compunction for being reasonable ended. Nothing would persuade her otherwise now, and Elena was acutely aware of it.

She finally relented and told Evangeline to give them a few days to ready themselves for the journey.

* * *

><p><strong>One Year Later<strong>

**Cullen**

He petitioned for a transfer to advance his rank and skills. He felt that he was finally prepared to handle and lead a company of men. Well, that was the official reason for it anyway. Off paper, his time at the Tower, a place that he had once called home, had turned into a permanent reminder of the abominations that butchered his friends. He made valiant efforts to engage his time with his Templar duties and other chores of normalcy but it was evident that it wasn't working.

Cullen threw a completed report onto a growing pile that was stacked on his desk.

The other reason for it, he grudgingly conceded, was that there might have been a possibility that he would catch sight of her here in Kirkwall. He was aware that Elena had married and was now situated here, but hadn't initially had the time to pay her a social call. The two sisters were very close, and it seemed unlikely that Evangeline would avoid coming round. When he finally found the time to stop by, he was told that Elena and her family had temporarily moved back to Ostwick. He found himself wondering if Evangeline had had a role in the decision.

The thought of her brought back a familiar longing and an unfamiliar anger that simmered just below the surface. There were quiet moments where he would revisit happier memories of the times they spent together. But at the end of it, that was all he possessed. Memories. And his combined love and anger towards her seemed to blend into a toxic concoction, as he found that he couldn't have one without the other.

Surrounding himself with his responsibilities alleviated this melancholy to a degree. Kirkwall was neck-deep in a disturbing assortment of problems. There was never a dull moment, but also never a peaceful one. But, come the evening, work would cease and he would lumber towards his bed to endure a solitude he had come to dread. He saw her often in his dreams, but they were too short and upon completion, they left him bitter and aggravated.

He had met a few women – through the _charitable_ actions of some of his colleagues – and while some of them were attractive enough, he could never quite progress beyond the initial stages of getting-to-know-yous. Cullen found himself searching for that spark of spontaneity, absurdity and unwavering loyalty. And once he'd begun that analogy he was quick to sever ties. He knew that ultimately, she was the woman to which he would measure all others against.

_Damn her_. Even in absentia, she continued to be the death of him.

He placed his head in his hands and wept.


	16. Hat Trick

**Author's note:**

Thanks – all you brilliant folks who read this and review. You guys rock. Let me know if I can ever return the favour.

I am pretty anal when it comes to typos and grammar, but I fail spectacularly at adhering to the canon timelines. So if I'm off by - oh, say a few years or so - please, please forgive me.

I have also had a chat with Tokugawa Blitzer (go check out her story, by the way - it's called **Temporary Absolution**, and yes, Cullen plays a big role) regarding canon dialog. I will do my utmost best to stay true to the characters and main plotlines. However, I will be not be including dialog verbatim from the game. I just can't do it. For one thing, I have a very poor memory. Secondly, I prefer to use my imagination and expand on conversations. It's fun to mess around with that.

Gonna go pass out on my bed now.

* * *

><p><strong>Hat Trick<strong>

**Three Years Later**

She walked into the cabin and Bunty bounded towards her in greeting. She gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. She crossed the room to where Adric was reading and tossed the pouch of silver in his direction. He caught it in his right hand without looking up.

"I hope you didn't have to wring his neck for that," muttered Adric.

Evangeline unpinned her hair and flopped into a chair by the hearth. She leaned her neck against the headrest and gazed up at the ceiling. "Nope. I just told him that we'd set his would-be killer loose if he refused to pay up. That's the trouble with all these bloated businessmen. They're so accommodating when they need something done, but once the job's finished, they're too miserly to cough up a single copper."

Bunty put a paw on her knee and dropped a wet rubber ball into her lap. She obligingly flung it across the room and watched the Mabari leap after it. "You should have seen me. I was quite the diplomat. You'd have been impressed."

Adric arched a dubious brow in her direction. Evangeline's idea of diplomacy was questionable at best.

"Did you count the coins?" he said.

She waved a dismissive hand in the air. "_Pfff_. _Did I count the coins_," she repeated, as if he didn't give her enough credit as is. "Of course I..._No_."

Adric sighed.

"Any news from Asogen?" she said.

"Not since the last letter."

"Oh. What're you reading?" asked Evangeline. Bunty returned to her, ball in mouth. She playfully attempted to wrestle it out of his jaws. Victorious, she tossed it in the opposite direction.

"A letter from your mother."

"Why the hell does she address the damn things to you?" she grumbled as she snatched the letter from his hand. She glanced at the length of it, and upon seeing far too many words on a single page, reconsidered and handed it back to Adric.

"Because she knows you promptly toss all her letters into the fire."

"I'm not going back home, Adric." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Nobody's saying you have to, my dear. But we're not exactly affluent at the moment. Being a sellsword is hard enough. Being a _moral _one really does put a choke-hold on our finances." He watched as she shot him a scornful look. "Think of it this way. You go help your uncle for a day and we get paid twice the income we'd have earned in a month. And there's no fighting involved. You won't even break a sweat."

But she was not listening. "You _do_ know what this is, isn't it? It's a ruse. A trap to get me back home. What on earth could Uncle possibly need me for? I'm not a Templar. Not a Mage." She nodded to herself, convinced. "It's definitely a trap."

"What about those scrolls he wanted you to help him transcribe?"

"Think about it. _Who_, in their right mind would waste time leafing through moldy papers when something as big as the Conclave will be going on under their very noses?"

"I don't know. Your uncle _is_ rather bookish."

Fully in the throes of paranoid drama, she continued. "There _are_ no scrolls. He's come to dupe me into going back home with him."

"Ah. Of course." he began with mock gravity. "He's going to bop you over your head, toss you into a sack, sling you over his shoulder and deliver you to your mother. And you, being the weak and helpless woman that you are, can do nothing to defend yourself."

Evangeline pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. "_Oy_. Watch it. I'm in no mood to be patronized."

Bunty plopped himself down in front of the hearth and began to roll around on his back – all four limbs pawing at the air. He grunted in contentment as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth.

Adric held up the letter he'd finished reading and gave it a shake. "Oh, I have just the thing to cheer you up. Your thoughtful mother has devoted two paragraphs of her letter to me."

She turned to him expectantly. "Do tell."

He cleared his throat and began to read the letter out loud. "_Dear Adric, I shall get straight to the point. I feel compelled to inquire after your intentions towards my youngest. I have been told that the pair of you have grown very close over the last several years and have begun to live together under the same roof for three of them. I'm not accustomed to how such affairs are handled in Ferelden, but in the Free Marches, a romantic relationship out of wedlock is bound to stir up scandal and set tongues wagging_.

"_I understand that you must care for Evangeline deeply to have remained by her side all this time. Make no mistake, I am grateful that she has someone to rein her in when necessary. What I fail to comprehend, however, is why the subject of marriage has not yet been broached. If you're the sort of man who prefers to sow his wild oats in various pastures, I have no right to tell you how to live your life. But as you are involved with my daughter, who is of noble descent, I am strongly obliged to intervene_.

"_I urge you to address these concerns in your reply to this letter. Faithfully yours, Lady Edith Trevelyan of Ostwick_."

He looked up from the letter, his eyes twinkling in mirth. They stared at one another in silence for a moment and then burst into raucous guffaws. Evangeline doubled over.

Bunty, delighted with the infectious laughter, leapt towards Adric and began to lick his face. Tears streaming down his cheek and one arm around the dog, he chortled breathlessly. "Get your wanton arse into a wedding gown, you wench! To the Chapel – on the double! By Jove, I shall have my way with you tonight!"

Evangeline, unable to contain herself, hooted and slapped her thigh. "Stop it, please...can't breathe! I...can't handle your philandering ways and your..._your wild oats are everywhere!_" She caved into another fit of hysterics.

Adric jumped up from his seat and yanked her up from hers. They danced preposterously together into the night with Bunty running circles around them.

* * *

><p><strong>Two Days Later<strong>

**The Temple of Sacred Ashes**

She stood aside from the filtering throng, convinced that finding her uncle amidst all this was like looking for a needle in mile-high haystacks. Sisters and Brothers of the Chantry, Templars, Mages, scholars, scribes and anybody who was _somebody_ chugged through the gullet of the large hallway. Evangeline couldn't help but think that if Divine Justinia didn't keep this lot under control, it would go down as one of the biggest debacles in history.

At long last, her uncle had managed to locate her, and pulled her off to a quiet corner.

He told her that the scrolls they had been privileged to transcribe were eventually going to be carefully transported and preserved in Val Royeaux's Chantry. They would not remain in Ferelden for much longer. He _had_ to seize the moment. And since his presence was requested at these peace talks, he'd needed someone else to carry out this noble undertaking.

And that was where Evangeline came in.

He handed her the delicate parchments which had been conscientiously rolled and stored in an airtight container and sent her off to the library to continue with his work.

Evangeline shrugged in acquiescence. This _was_ infinitely preferable to being tied up in a sack and sent home.

* * *

><p>Halfway through the seventh scroll, her eyelids began to droop and she started to nod off. The quill poised over textured vellum lowered as her hand relaxed, and with this second onslaught of drowsiness, her wrist dropped and knocked over a bottle of ink with a clank. Immediately awake, she stared helplessly as the ink began to seep into the parchments to her right.<p>

"Oh..._fuck_." She hastily dabbed at the spreading stain with whatever was nearest at hand, which happened to be the lower half of her shirt. She awkwardly thrust her hip out in order to stretch the cloth to its fullest extent.

But her panicked response seemed to worsen matters as the cloth doubled the radius of the black ink.

"_Andraste's sodding tits_," she exclaimed loudly and then immediately jerked her head up in frightened remorse. She raised her hand to her mouth. She never quite believed that Andraste was anything more than a formidable and charismatic warrior, but her ashes rested in this very temple, and perhaps a modicum of reverence was necessary.

Evangeline gazed with widened eyes at her handiwork. _So dead. So very dead_.

_Carefully unearthed from ancient libraries. Remarkable that the fragile scrolls are still legible. Irreplaceable, so please __**do**__ be careful with them_.

Right then. _Well._ Things certainly couldn't get much worse than this.

The ground gave a violent shudder and she was thrown to the floor. Several busts on pedestals teetered and fell down with a crash, shattering into irrecoverable pieces. The entire foundation groaned and wheezed before silence finally descended.

"_Oh, what now?_" she wailed.

She got to her feet quickly and ran out into the hallway. A combination of dust and powdered rock trickled from the ceiling. There was no one else in sight. She jogged through the corridors as a second wave struck. She staggered with her arms stretched out at each side for balance. The entire world seemed to toss from side to side like a ship at the mercy of a storm.

She finally made it to the antechamber that led into the Great Hall. The ground had ceased shuddering.

_Where was everyone? There was no Templar, no Mage, nothing._

She heard several muffled voices from behind the imposing set of heavy doors. She ran forward before a third tremor could strike and tentatively cracked a door open.

She saw the Divine kneeling before someone. No. Not kneeling. Being forced to kneel. Her hands were held back by several men.

_Keep the sacrifice still._

She kicked the door open. _Bombs away_. "What the _hell_ is going on here?"

_We have an intruder. Kill her_.

_What, no banter?_ She looked to her right and saw...she didn't quite know _who _or _what_ she was staring at. But damn, if he wasn't a tall bugger. _Impossibly tall_.

The Divine glanced from Evangeline and back to the man. She wrenched her hand free, and knocked a large bauble from her tormentor's hand. The object did not shatter on impact. Instead, it bounced once and rolled in Evangeline's direction.

Operating on instinct, she lunged forward and picked up the sphere with her left hand.

The last words she heard before the world went dark were Justinia's own. "Go back. You must warn them!"

* * *

><p><strong>Three Days Later<strong>

She awoke to the sound of jangling keys and creaking hinges. Footsteps sounded across the stone floor. Glancing down, she saw her shackled hands. The cell again. And she was still its prisoner.

Evangeline gazed up the tall woman. Her dark hair was cropped close to her head, her brown eyes blazed with passion and her high cheekbones and aquiline profile gave her an almost regal appearance. She was intimidating, powerful and terrifyingly beautiful.

She also could have been a younger version of Mother.

"While you slept," she began, with a trace of a Nevarran accent, "we have been combing the debris for any survivors. And do you know what we have found?"

She struggled to recall what had transpired. There were the parchments, the spilled ink, an earthquake and then...nothing. Evangeline whimpered a soft _no_.

"Corpses. Lots and lots of corpses. Do you know what that makes you?"

This was a trick question. Her breathing quickened but she remained silent.

"You are the sole survivor of an explosion that killed everyone at the Conclave. Including our Divine. And _now_...now you've ripped a hole in the sky. You've torn open the Fade."

She shook her head repeatedly. _Impossible_. _That would imply that Uncle was dead. What was she going to tell Mother?_ She had landed in one of Varric Tethras' novels. "Dead? Everyone?" This was all a carefully executed con. It had to be. "I swear. I don't know what you're talking about. I am...as incompetent as they come. I couldn't have done it."

The woman lunged forward and yanked Evangeline's left wrist up roughly. Her palm glowed an eerie green. "_Then explain this!_" she demanded.

Evangeline stared at the mark in astonishment. She couldn't tear her gaze from it. "I...can't."

The woman raised a hand to strike her but was held back.

"Cassandra – _no_. We need her. She might be able to fix this."

Another woman stepped into view. She was hooded and her features were shrouded by its shadow. She seemed more self-possessed than her fiery counterpart.

"Take her to a Breach. _Show her_." came her Orlesian voice.

* * *

><p>They perched on a small incline and Evangeline's eyes took in an aftermath that she couldn't comprehend. A few prostrate bodies lay sprawled on the frozen lake and in the distance, a Shade demon that she had only seen in books obstructed their path.<p>

"Stay behind me," Casssandra ordered.

"Aren't you going to give me a weapon?" asked an incredulous Evangeline.

Cassandra gave her a derisive snort in place of a reply. She advanced forward.

"I _agreed_ to help you. How can I possibly do that if I'm not even allowed to defend myself?" she insisted.

Cassandra spun around and growled. She picked up a greatsword next to a dead soldier and handed it to her. "_Fine_. Let's hope you can handle a blade."

* * *

><p>The pair cleared a path up the mountain, shearing their way through frenzied creatures who appeared to be just as disoriented as they were. Evangeline's capacity to understand the tears in the sky, the demons that poured out of it, the Divine's death – it was gradually beginning to fracture her sanity. She made a conscious effort to focus on one obstacle at a time and stave off any attempts at comprehension. She could always drive herself batty later.<p>

They ran up to a smaller Breach – its ethereal green tendrils glowed, crackled and branched like deviating lightning. Cassandra jogged forward to help two figures – an elf and a dwarf – dispatch the demons that had trickled into this world. Evangeline followed suit.

They held their ground successfully for several minutes. The demons dead and now nothing but ashes, she stared up at this phenomenon in awe. Suddenly, someone grabbed her hand and stretched it out towards the Breach. A stream of blinding light shot out through her palm. She had to place both feet apart to keep herself steady. In the matter of a few seconds, the anomaly had disappeared.

"You're welcome," said the elf as he gazed back at her knowingly. His face was narrow, as were his eyes, but they shone with sharp perception. "I watched over you while you slept."

"He means that he kept your mark from killing you," said the dwarf.

"Thank you...?" offered a perplexed Evangeline.

"Do you have any concept of what you're capable of?" asked the elf.

"I...no."

"Whatever happened to you in the Fade has given you this ability. We threw every form of defensive spell we could conjure at it, but nothing could sew it shut like you can. It truly is a marvel."

Evangeline nodded hesitantly. _Sure. Whatever you say_. "You are?"

He extended a hand in her direction. "Solas. My specialty is the Fade." Evangeline shook it weakly.

"He is an apostate," remarked Cassandra as she sheathed her longsword.

"Technically, Seeker, _all_ mages are apostates now."

The dwarf chuckled and shouldered his crossbow. He smiled at Evangeline. "Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller and occasional demon-hunter." He winked up at Cassandra who raised a corner of her lips in a disdainful snarl.

"We don't need your help, _dwarf_." growled Cassandra.

"Tarric Vethras? I mean – _**the**_ _Varric Tethras_? Author of Hard in Hightown and the Chantry Priests series?" asked Evangeline, her mouth agape.

He nodded in satisfaction, evidently tickled pink that his name was recognizable even as far from civilization as they were.

_Lessee. Hole in the sky, rabid demons, glowy-green thing and now one of my most beloved authors_. Evangeline wouldn't bat an eye if Flemeth the Shape-Shifter sat placidly around the corner.

"So you've read _all _my books?" grinned Varric.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Andraste give me grace. Not this again." She looked at them, her jaw tight and clenched. "You can revel in adulation another time, Tethras. We have demons to slay."

* * *

><p>The rest of their perilous journey was a bit of a blur. Evangeline stuck close to Varric. Out of the three, and despite having never met him, he seemed the most familiar. And quite possibly the sanest one there. Solas seemed to be tapping into his inner mad-scientist, as he would gaze awestruck at such supernatural phenomena, and remark on it with jargon unfamiliar to her. And Cassandra? The woman was pure fury on two legs. She possessed more than simple skill. She was quick, strong and brutal. She had no time for nonsense, and she strove to reach the bottom of this mess with singular focus.<p>

They made it to a small but secured camp on a bridge, and Evangeline had to lean against a wall to catch her breath. A member of the Chantry emphatically pointed at her in unmistakable, accusatory anger. To Evangeline's surprise, Cassandra seemed to be defending her.

_Bring her to trial_, he seemed to demand.

_Doesn't seem to be responsible_. _Could be our only hope to seal this thing_.

_But she's the only survivor! You're no more than a brash thug – telling me what to do!_

_And what about you? You're nothing but a glorified clerk!_

Evangeline inhaled and exhaled deeply. She rubbed the back of her neck.

And then, that was all over and done with and they were on the move again.

"Where are we going?" asked Evangeline.

"We're taking you to the site of the second Breach. We have some soldiers ahead who are clearing a path for us." explained Cassandra. "You're going to close it. With a little luck, maybe it will lessen the size of the first one."

Varric shot Evangeline a dubious glance and shook his head. "Luck is for stories," he whispered up at her. "In real life, you'll have to make your own."

"Where is the first Breach?" asked Evangeline.

"Just outside Haven. You can't see it from here, but you'll know it when you do." replied Varric.

Within a few minutes, they had reached a demolished building. All that was left of it was an archway. A soldier's silhouette stood beneath it. A small explosion blew him outwards and he was flung to the floor.

"_There!_" cried Cassandra.

Evangeline raced into the fury, close behind Cassandra. Varric and Solas followed at her flank. There were four demonic entities this time and only three soldiers. Solas flung a wave of ice at one of the creatures. It instantaneously froze. Evangeline struck it with the pommel of her sword. Branching cracks moved down the ice. She then struck it once more with a shattering blow. It burst into shards.

Cassandra seemed to have brought down two on her own. The three remaining soldiers hacked tirelessly at the remaining beast and made short work of it.

She directed her attention to green tear. _Okay. Let's do this. How does it work again?_ Evangeline raised up her left palm up to this second Breach. She shuddered as its force ricocheted along her bones, but she held her ground. It closed as the air gushed about her.

She bent over and grabbed her knees. She tried to steady her breathing.

"Got here in the nick of time," came a voice.

"We wouldn't have made it without the aid of the prisoner," said Cassandra.

"The path ahead should be safe. Are you sure this will work?"

"Even if doesn't, we need to try." she replied, ever-practical.

The third soldier appeared to suffer a fractured leg. His counterpart positioned himself at his side, slung his injured friend's arm around his neck and began to help him off the battlefield.

Varric approached Evangeline who remained doubled over. He placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. "You okay, kid?"

_Not really_. What she _did_ want to do was throw up. But instead, she gave him a feeble thumbs-up. "_Geronimo_." she said.

The warrior who Cassandra was addressing froze.

Cassandra continued to speak, but when she saw that he wasn't listening, she lowered her brows. "Commander? Commander?" She raised her fingers to his eye-level and snapped them together. "_Commander!_"

He pushed past her and walked slowly towards the prisoner. Her head still hung between her knees. _It's not possible_. He reached out and gently took her chin in his hand. He raised her face up to his.

The realization rendered him speechless.

In her defense, Evangeline was overcome by a storm of emotions that she had long since submerged. She was both shocked and overjoyed to stare back into the eyes she believed she would never see again. That, compressed along with the events of the past few days, had flung her far beyond the threshold of normalcy. And so, she did the only thing that her bewildered mind and body could manage at this moment in time.

Her stomach heaved and she promptly retched onto his boots.

* * *

><p>Cassandra had urged him to return to the safety of his men; they could not afford to lose a Seeker <em>and<em> a Commander in one day. But he had insisted on coming along. Clearly, she seemed a little puzzled at his reaction to Evangeline's presence, but had decided that this wasn't a suitable time to pursue the matter. To be frank, it wasn't something he'd wanted to consider either.

But want warred with compulsion.

The last time he'd seen her, they were both...well...on the precipice of something wonderful. She'd wanted him just as badly as he'd wanted her. Her eyes bore into him, her skin was velvet-soft and she had pressed herself against him, her legs were wrapped...

_Maferath's fucking balls._

His hands grew cold. It was as if someone had stumbled into a graveyard and unearthed a corpse they should have left in the ground.

_No_. He wouldn't weaken. He'd weathered cyclones before.

But _Evie_...she was a tempest of an altogether different nature.

"Breathe. Just breathe," he muttered to himself, unaware that he was talking out loud.

And then, Maker forgive him, he ran after them. After _her_. He battled alongside her once more as they fought against one of the largest abomination he'd faced yet. This Breach, the first Rift that had torn into Thedas, had unleashed a pride demon. Leliana's archers weakened its hide with fiery arrows as Cassandra and Evangeline drew its attention away from their long-ranged warriors.

But Evangeline needed the time and space to close the abomination above them. And so, he stepped in helped cripple the creature. As its demise drew nearer, he directed Evangeline to shut the damn thing once and for all.

As she did so, they all watched in fervent hope. She stumbled to one knee but held her marked hand up with the other until – with a gust of rushing air – the Rift disappeared. Drained, she crumpled to a heap on the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>Haven<strong>

**Two Days Later**

Leliana and Josephine paused at the closed entryway to the war room. They could hear the Chancellor bickering with their Seeker. Their raised voices signified that both combatants were matched when it came to short tempers, but not reason.

"I think," began Josephine, with Antivan droll, "I'm going to let our Seeker handle this one. There's only so far that diplomacy will go." She turned on her heels to enter her study.

Leliana laughed as she followed close behind, her voice musical. "I never thought I'd hear you say that. But you're still too kind. Roderick is an ambitious opportunist. If he were a woman, he'd be clamoring over the corpses to claim the Sunburst Throne for himself."

Josephine tucked a strand of curly black hair behind her ear and gave her companion a sideways glance. "Since when did you strive to see the worst in people?"

Leliana gave her a sad smile and remained silent.

Josephine cocked her head in sympathy and took her friend's hand in her own. "That wasn't fair – I'm sorry. We'll get through this one. We always do. Have faith."

Leliana looked at her with masked skepticism but she appreciated the gesture nevertheless. She quickly switched topics. "Did you read the missive from Mother Giselle?"

"Yes. As soon as the Herald is fit to travel, we should investigate the situation immediately."

"_Must_ you call her the Herald?"

"Andraste guided her out of the Fade to help us."

"Come on, Josie, you and I _both_ know that can't be true."

"What _we_ believe is irrelevant. She has brought the people hope, and we've never needed it more." Josephine sat down behind her desk.

"But it could prove to be a false hope."

"So what would you rather? That we battle this thing convinced of our inevitable death, or that we forge on and give it everything we've got? There is plenty of research to prove that people fight all the harder when given a reason to hope."

Leliana gave her a wry expression. "You should have been a military commander with that optimism."

"I already am," said Josephine smiling, "The only difference is that I command diplomacy instead of a troop of soldiers. Besides, we already have a commander."

"Speaking of which," said Leliana as an amused smile played on her lips, "have you seen him lately? Doesn't he seem a little _different_ to you?"

Josephine paused, her grey eyes thoughtful. "Different? How?"

"Distracted. He's always so professional. So focused. But lately, especially this morning, his shirt was on back to front." Leliana giggled. "And then, after I gave him a copy of Mother Giselle's missive, he began to read it upside-down. After about a minute of pretending to read it, I turned it right side up and you should have _seen_ his cheeks burn."

"_No!_" laughed Josephine in astonishment.

"I assure you – it's true."

"What do you think happened?" And then, Josephine's face grew solemn. "Could there have been a death in the family?"

Leliana shook her head. "Oh no. I don't think that's the case at all. But I have a few theories."

"Well, don't keep them to yourself!"

Leliana looked at her mischievously. "Not yet, Josie. But perhaps after our meeting with Ev – the _Herald_ – I should have enough information to clue you in."

* * *

><p>"So...you intend to reestablish the Inquisition of old?" asked Evangeline.<p>

Cassandra nodded. She leaned over and placed one hand on the imposing oak table. With the other, she pulled the tome towards them and placed a reverent palm on its leather-bound cover. "Divine Beatrix issued this writ a long time ago. Justinia took note of its merit and compiled a few additions of her own. Leliana and I did not solely rely on the Conclave's possible resolution. We had considered its failure – perhaps not on the same scale of the tragedy that followed – but we didn't overlook the possibility. If things returned to the way they were, or worse, we would have to bring stability to Thedas. Forcefully, if necessary. As it turns out, having this writ in hand is providence. A sign that the Maker has not completely abandoned us."

"That's swell. I wish you all the best with it." She looked around the table. "So what do you need me for?"

"You're the only one who can close these Rifts," said Cullen slowly. "There's no one else."

"And people have started to call you Andraste's Herald. Word has spread about how you closed the Breach at the Temple." added Josephine. "Before you came along, we were powerless."

"I...can't. I have friends. Family I've got to go back to."

Cullen eyed her with a degree of disappointment. So she was going to run away again.

"So does everyone else." said a determined Cassandra as she pointed out the window. "That thing doesn't just threaten Ferelden, or Orlais, or Nevarra. It threatens all of _Thedas_. That is the scale of severity we're dealing with. Now none of us can force you to stay here against your will, but I – for one – am willing to swallow my pride and beg for your help."

The more time Evangeline spent around Cassandra, the more the woman reminded her of Mother. Of course, Mother wouldn't be caught dead wearing a breastplate and wielding a sword and shield, but she possessed the same tenacity, the same passion when it came to doing what was right. And, finally, neither of them were accustomed to begging. For them to have reached that point – it was fairly obvious how grave the stakes had become.

Perhaps this wouldn't be as bed as she'd envisioned. Walk up to the unnatural storm, shove her hand before it and shut the damn thing. After all, how many rifts could there possibly be? The sooner the job was finished, the sooner she could return to the familiar. Evangeline exhaled. "Okay. I'll...do what I can."

Cullen dipped his head a fraction to conceal a relieved smile.

Evangeline looked to the others expectantly. "Alright. So we've closed a couple Breaches. Do we...run up to the big one and hack at it?"

"Your mark needs more power," replied Leliana softly. "We need the help of several mages to do that."

Cullen shot her a disapproving look. "I disagree. I still think the Templars are our best bet. Inviting the mages here – it's just asking for trouble."

Cassandra surprisingly came to Leliana's defense. "You left the Templars, Commander. Let us not forget why."

Evangeline's head jerked up. _He left the Order? When was this?_

The Seeker went on. "I'm not assigning blame to either party. I just think we need to carefully consider our options. Not all Templars have gone down Knight Commander Meredith's road, and not all mages have or will become abominations."

"True," concurred Josephine. "But we must decide quickly." She turned her attention to Evangeline. "In the meantime, perhaps it's best to speak with Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands. She is willing to put in a word for us with the Chantry in Val Royeaux. But she can't get out because she is pinned in place by fighting that has erupted there between Mages and Templars. We may have to sort it out to get her help."

Josephine sighed before continuing. "This is no small undertaking. For the moment, all the Inquisition encompasses is the four of us and a handful of soldiers. No one is going to pay us much mind until we can build enough support."

"Ah. Okay. So. Do I just pop round there tomorrow or...?" asked Evangeline.

"Don't be absurd." snorted Cassandra. "We're not _that_ incompetent. Leliana's scouts are out there. We'll rendezvous with them and decide what to do once we've assessed the situation."

"It's decided then?" confirmed Leliana. The others nodded. She turned to Evangeline and smiled. "Do you have any questions for us?"

Evangeline gave a half-smile. "I do. For the...uh...Commander, in fact."

Leliana's eyes immediately lit up and she quickly flicked them in his direction. He seemed to stiffen. She returned her gaze to Evangeline.

"Yes?" said Cullen.

"_What in the name of sanity have you got around your shoulders_?"

The room fell into a dead silence.

And then then Josephine whirled around in a valiant attempt to choke back a laugh. Eventually unable to contain herself, a combination of grunts and snorts escaped her lips. She doubled over and had to grasp the table for balance. Leliana threw her head back and let out a musical chuckle which she didn't attempt to hide. Even Cassandra, who rarely gave into fits of laughter, looked down at her boots and brought a clenched fist to her mouth. Her shoulders shook silently.

His cheeks turned a deep crimson. "I..._what_?"

"You heard what she said," spoke Leliana as she eyed Evangeline with considerable amusement. "Tell us, Commander, do you brush them before you go to sleep?"

Evangeline broke into hysterics and had to lean on Josephine's shoulder to steady herself. The pair were not ready to stop anytime soon.

"This...it's irrelevant. I...no. I have to calibrate the trebuchets." And with that, he fled the room.

As soon as he left, the four women succumbed to hoots of uproarious laughter.

* * *

><p>Haven was chilly enough as it was, but the evening air brought a new meaning to the word <em>cold<em>. Evangeline rubbed her upper arms repeatedly for warmth. She turned a corner to see him bending over part of the trebuchet.

_Oh. He was serious about trebuchet calibrations then_.

She came and stood by his side as he tugged on a strap of thick leather. She nudged him playfully with her elbow.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked, annoyed.

"I came to apologize."

He straightened up but did not turn towards her. "_Fine_."

"Fine – you accept my apology, or fine – just go away and leave me to my grumpy old self?"

He scowled into the night. "You're the one who likes to run away from things."

She sighed. "Yes. I suppose I do."

He glanced at her, surprised at this admission. And then after taking in her face he had to tear away. He wouldn't give into his feelings. He wouldn't allow himself to be burned a second time.

But she turned to face him instead. "Alright. Have at me. Heaven knows I deserve it."

"What?"

She nodded at him. "Go on. Draw on every single cuss word you can think of and fling it at me. I deserve it for what I did to you."

He paused briefly before speaking. "I...can't."

"Are you too chicken?"

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. "No, that's not it. Well that's very childish though, isn't it? Settle our differences by hurling insults at one another?"

"No, this is one directional. _You_ insult _me_. Trust me, it helps and can work wonders. Adric does this to me all the time. He's a changed man afterwards. Much calmer and relaxed."

He sighed. "_Look_. I can't yell at you."

She looked into his eyes as if searching for something. When he broke away, she knew she had found the answer. "Well...I suppose it's a start." She stretched and yawned. "I don't know about you, but I'm knackered. Talk later?"

_No_. "Yes." He finally allowed his attention to settle on her completely. Her eyes looked...older. But the rest of her - almost exactly as he'd remembered save for a scar that ran across her chin. "For the record. I'm still...angry."

"I know." Evangeline reached out and tousled his hair affectionately. She was relieved that he didn't flinch. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here. How can I make things right between us?"

He breathed heavily, trying to redirect his thoughts from their last night together. "I don't know."

She bit her lower lip. "I'm not good at this stuff - you know that. I don't operate well on innuendo. Do you want me to step away? Leave you alone?"

"_No_," he said, realizing that the word had escaped his lips too quickly.

"What do _you_ want?"

_You. Maker help me, I need **you**_. "I'm not sure yet."

"Well. Maybe you can let me know when you do."

"Alright."

"Goodnight, Cully Wully."

As soon as her back was turned, he relinquished a lopsided smile and wore it for several moments before heading back to his room.


	17. Sick Muse

**Sick Muse**

_No, it doesn't seem right_  
><em> To take information<em>  
><em> Given at close range<em>  
><em> For the gag<em>  
><em> And the bind<em>  
><em> And the ammunition round<em>

Some kind of wretched bird perched itself on his window sill. Cullen shifted in his bed and opened his eyes in irritation. The moon, shining brightly at its zenith, flooded his room with its light. What the devil was that infernal creature doing – cawing at this hour? He reached over the side of the bed, picked up a boot and flung it hard at the window.

It went silent.

He leaned back into his pillow with interlaced hands on his head.

This was _wrong_. Letting her come back into his life, acting as if what she had done to him hadn't hurt. What she had put him through was not inconsequential. It had physically tormented him. And she had _laughed_ at him in the War Room. As if –

The damned bird started crowing again.

He threw the other boot, and it struck the glass with a loud thwack before thudding to the floor.

Blessed silence again.

Cullen breathed heavily. He had buried those bones and had laid them to rest. After more than a decade with the Templars, he had found real purpose once more, and he didn't need her storming in to undo everything he'd fought so hard to contain. She was immature. That was her problem. Everything was some grand joke, an excuse to frolic at someone else's expense. He, on the other hand, had faced reality and its consequences. He knew what was at stake and was prepared to make the necessary sacrifices.

Cassandra had sought him out to command the Inquisition's troops – such as they were. Surely she must have seen in him some potential. He had _earned_ his rank. As for Evangeline, she had come into possession of the mark by sheer happenstance. And what was her knee-jerk response when confronted with responsibility? _She wanted to run_.

Just like that night so many years ago.

_No_. He was finished with her antics. It had been a mistake to let her think otherwise.

When she returned from the Hinterlands, they'd talk, and with any luck – it would be the final conversation they would have as friends.

* * *

><p>"You like to deflect pain with humour, don't you?" said Evangeline to Varric as they led their mounts back to the stables in Haven.<p>

Their boots crunched over the caked snow. "Now whatever gives you _that _impression?" laughed Varric.

"You look sad when you think no one's looking, and..." she gave him a purposeful glance, "it takes one to know one."

They traipsed passed conifers that shook as gusts of chill wind blew through them. "So. Who _was_ she?" said Evangeline. She looked at Cassandra and Solas, who were several yards ahead and beyond earshot.

"I'm sorry – _what_?" Varric attempted to look affronted by the personal question.

"Who was Bianca?"

"Bianca is my crossbow."

Evangeline brushed away a snowflake that landed on her nose. She exhaled but persisted. "Okay. Let me put it this way. Who was the woman who _made_ you that crossbow?"

Varric shot her an irritated yet amused smile. "What makes you think she _made_ me the crossbow? She could just have easily have given it to me as a gift."

She jerked her head around at him; her expression triumphant. "Aha! So there _is_ a woman behind it all! Is Philomena's character in Chantry Priests based off of her? _Oh boy_. It _is_, isn't it?" She marveled at this possible revelation. "Bianca _is_ Philomena. Wait till I tell Adric!"

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "_Andraste's tits_. You must be a royal pain in the arse to your friends."

She cocked her head and conceded. "I try. But I don't really have that many friends – just two. Well, not if you count my family."

They finally arrived at the stables. The Inquisition's mounts were hardy creatures, but not as agile or speedy as the steeds they would soon acquire from Master Dennet. Cassandra seemed exceedingly pleased to have enlisted the horse-master's aid. They had exchanged a favour for a favour, and he had felt obliged to not simply lend them his horses, but to journey to Haven to care for them as well.

After the horses had been handed over, their current caretaker led them to a feeding and water trough. The weary animals set to work at once.

"So where exactly _are_ your friends?" questioned Varric, eager to wander off the topic of Bianca.

"One's in Par Vollen, and the other should be joining us here soon. I asked Josephine to dispatch a letter to him. He probably thinks I'm dead. When he hears about what happened," Evangeline smiled at the thought of it, "he's going to hit the roof. And probably kill me. I'm not sure in which order though."

"And how did your mother handle the news of her brother's death?"

Uncle Cedric's rotund face materialized in her mind's eye. Silly, old, bookish Cedric. Knowledge was his aphrodisiac and was now his downfall.

"He's not really her brother. He's her brother-in-law. And...well, she handles everything gracefully. Even tragedy. She's just _strong_ that way." replied Evangeline, her face solemn. "She and Aunt Lucille will hold a service for him next week. Empty casket. Aunt Lucille's the same way. Strong. A bit gossipy though."

"And you don't think _you're_ strong?"

She snorted. "No. Not really. I'm a coward. Can't seem to commit to much of anything."

"You've stuck with us this far," noted the dwarf as they climbed up the steps to Haven's main gates.

"I...don't really have much of a choice."

"My point exactly. We all have choices. They may be _shitty_ choices, but they're there regardless. The fact that you view it as such is...well, pretty commendable."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Trust me. When they ambushed me in the War Room about this entire Inquisition and Breach business, I tried to make a run for it."

Varric smiled to himself. _But you're still here_, he noticed. _Much like I'm still here_. He turned to look at the setting sun which – in painful coincidence – happened to lie in the same direction as that whopper of a Rift. _Well, shit. How the hell did he get roped into this one?_ _You managed that on your own_, retorted his conscience. _You'd fallen into your own trap_.

"Wanting to run is normal, kid," said Varric. "Anyone who's first impulse is to leap into the fray to be proven a hero had got to be batshit crazy. It's the choice that comes after the instinct to flee that counts."

Evangeline regarded him with a mixture of curiousity and respect. "So why did _you_ stay? You don't have a mark that controls the Fade. You don't owe anyone anything."

"Same as you. I'm done running. And it's not like the demons are going to stop coming if I stick my head in the ground."

They had finally reached Varric's tent. She gave him an appreciative grin. "I'm glad you decided to stay."

"Hold that thought." He crouched down and began to light a fire. "You may not be so happy when we're both lying six feet under." Evangeline turned to leave. "Oh, and kid? You're going to want to get that gash in your arm looked at. That sucker's gotta sting."

* * *

><p>Evangeline walked towards the Chantry and caught sight of Cullen speaking with the requisitions officer, Threnn. Evangeline had found that while all other topics of conversation were fairly neutral with the woman, politics certainly wasn't one of them. The woman, despite having the courage to speak her mind, was an ardent supporter of the late Loghain Mac Tir. She was vehement in the notion that the Grey Warden, Alistair, and the Hero of Ferelden were murderers – plain and simple. The only solace she could find in the entire affair was that Queen Anora still retained her throne. Evangeline had taken future note to never bring up the subject again.<p>

As she passed them, she found Cullen racing to her. She turned to him with a welcoming smile.

He didn't seem willing to return it. "I...uh...do you have some time to talk?"

She nodded. Varric was right, her arm had begun to throb something awful, but a little time alone with him was worth the pain.

They strolled to a secluded section of the training camp. Evangeline found it a trifle worrying that he hadn't said a word to her yet, but as he'd mentioned several evenings ago, he _was_ still angry.

He gestured for her to sit on the bench opposite him.

"Are you going to cuss at me now?" she ventured, a little anxious. "Because if you are, I'll need a moment to...well, steel myself."

"No. I just need to make a few things clear. I'm afraid I may have given you the wrong impression the other day." he began.

Almost immediately, her heart sank. "Oh...okay. What impression would that be?"

"The impression that we could go back to the way things were before."

"I...how _were_ they before?"

Cullen looked away. He couldn't be certain, but she seemed to actually be in pain. He inhaled and drilled deep for the strength to continue. "Friends."

Her hands grew clammy. _Okay_. Worse than she'd imagined then. Did he not feel anything anymore? "Cull – "

He turned towards her and glowered. "And it's not Cully Wully anymore. Not Cullen either for that matter. _Commander_. Call me Commander."

A spark of anger leaped to the surface, but she submerged it. _Take the high road, kid_. She was starting to sound like Varric. "I'm sorry for what I did to you."

He shook his head. "No, you're not."

Evangeline's nostrils began to flare. "I'm not?" she said with incredulity. And then with sarcasm, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that only _you_ could speak for me."

"You said it first. While we were fighting so many years ago. You said you cared for me. _You_ opened up this can of worms."

Well. It looked like _that_ mishap was going to haunt her for the rest of her adult life. _You jackass. High road, babe. High road_. "Okay. Fair enough."

"Why did you start something you couldn't see through?"

Good grief. She felt her breathing intensify, but she remained silent. _Those nostrils must be flaring something awful_.

He leapt up, furious now. How he'd switched so quickly from _calm_ to _enraged_ could mean only one thing. These were feelings that had long been bubbling underneath the surface. He pointed emphatically to himself. "You left me when I _begged_ you to stay. I opened up myself to you. I never did that with _anyone_! I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you...but _you_, you had to go and think only of yourself."

She clenched her jaw. "_Say that again_."

He'd boarded the runaway train. "You wanted to go back to him. To Stroud. You had your fun with me and now it was time for something else."

"Say. It. Again." Her voice was low, dangerous.

Something stirred his conscience. _This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to go_. _Cheap; the accusations were cheap_. These were low-blows, not to mention untrue...and he knew it. But he'd gained too much momentum to stop now. "You went back to him because I wasn't good enough. That's what you do. You use people and then throw them away."

"I was finished with Alec. After you came into my life, _no one_ else could take your place. They still can't."

"I..._what?_"

She jumped to her feet and shoved him. "_You fucking bastard_. You know I love you – love you more than I'd managed to love _anyone_. I left because being a Templar was _your_ dream! _You_ told me that – or don't you remember anymore? And I didn't want to be the person who snatched that away from you. You think I _wanted_ to go back to a life without you in it? But you know what? I didn't throw in the towel. I didn't roll over and die. I may never love another man as much as I loved you in my entire life, but I am going make _damned _sure I don't go out whimpering. Our lives are too short for regrets."

She held a pair of clenched fists at her side, in subconscious acknowledgement that she might very well clout him properly over the head. "You think you're the only one to feel pain? I got news for you, Commander of all that is _angst_, _you're not_. Remember my friend, Adric? He lost the one person who he truly loved. I wasn't there to stop him, so he very well might have gone and done himself in. But he crawled back to his feet. He's himself again. Himself _plus_ scars – and he's all the more remarkable for it. And you know what he does so much better than you? He knows how to bloody well _live_."

Evangeline lunged forward so as to push him again, but Cullen was quicker and grabbed her arm to prevent her from doing so. She let out a yelp of pain. He stepped back, shocked. He couldn't have grasped her _that_ forcefully. In the light of the moon, he saw a dark stain mottle the sleeve of her arm.

"You're..." The sight of her bleeding struck his fury down. _Oh, Maker. What had he done? _He reached out to hold her, tell her he was sorry but in the instant that he did so, she sank her teeth hard into his hand.

He wrenched it back in. _Maker, she was still a biter_. But he wasn't upset. "Evie...I –"

"You stay the hell away from me, _Commander_," she spat. "Go back to your fucking feathered pauldrons and your titles and your troops. I'll close your goddamn Rifts for you, but you stay away from me."

She ran off into the night.

* * *

><p>Evangeline stormed into the healing wards and demanded that the Chantry healer give her their thinnest needle, cotton and alcoholic disinfectant. The woman, hesitant to argue with the steaming Herald, quickly handed her the items. But she didn't have any alcoholic disinfectant, only a flask of strong whiskey. Evangeline snatched it up.<p>

Her next stop was Josephine's study. As expected, she had been discussing the recent progress made in the Hinterlands with Leliana. _Did they require her presence for a debriefing_, she asked? _No, they'd gotten the information they needed from Cassandra and good work on neutralizing the situation in the Hinterlands, _and on seeing Evangeline's bloodied sleeve_, was everything okay_?

_Everything's peachy keen_.

She went to her quarters and tore the sleeve off the shirt. She threaded the needle and poured some of the whiskey on the deep gash. She winced and gritted her teeth as the alcohol seeped into the wound.

_You wanted to go back to him. To Stroud. You had your fun with me and now it was time for something else_.

With zero finesse, she shoved the needle into her flesh and began to roughly suture the opening shut. The pain was acute. Sharp. It felt good. It was beginning to give her the release she needed.

_You went back to him because I wasn't good enough. That's what you do. You use people and then throw them away._

Halfway through, she grabbed the flask of whiskey and guzzled down its remnants. With a deep breath, she completed the job, knotted the end of the thread and bit it off. She wiped off the blood around the cut with a clean cloth.

"You want me to cry, you fucking feathered arsehole?" She said aloud to the walls of her room. "I won't give you the satisfaction."

And she was as good as her word.

* * *

><p>Evangeline marched into Cassandra's tent in the middle of the night and tossed a greatsword in her direction. The Seeker, a self-declared insomniac, sat reading something and jumped up in surprise, dropping her book to the floor, as the metal clattered in front of her feet. She quickly kicked the book behind a crate.<p>

"You said I don't react fast enough." said Evangeline. "If I'm too slow, then teach me how to be fast like you."

Cassandra, still shocked, stared at the girl before her. She seemed a bit of mess really. One of the sleeves of her shirt had been torn off and the two-inch gash in her arm – which had evidently been sutured by a numbskull – lay exposed to the cool night air.

"It's late," began Cassandra. She nodded towards Evangeline's wound. "Has Hilde been at the whiskey again? Get her to remove those stitches and sew it shut properly. You can't afford to risk an infection."

"Demons aren't going to wait for me to sew stitches shut. And they're not going to do us the courtesy of waiting till morning to attack."

Cassandra scrutinized Evangeline with narrowed eyes. "I'm not in the mood to humour you. And you're not _slow_, just unschooled in dealing with demons."

"Show me how, then. I'm the Herald. If you truly want me to help the Inquisition, then do your fucking job and _teach me_." Evangeline stared unblinking at the Seeker.

* * *

><p>She skidded across the snowy ground, and spat out dirt from her mouth. She raised herself to all fours, and laughed up at Cassandra. "How am I doing?"<p>

"You're _insane_," said the Seeker, clearly a little surprised to see the girl take her fifth beating of the night.

Evangeline rose and charged again. She feigned a thrust to the right and spun her blade to the left at the last second, but Cassandra was a veteran. She saw her coming, deliberately tangled her hilt with that of Evangeline's and locked their swords together. While the younger woman was distracted, Cassandra shoved a sharp elbow in her face.

Evangeline stumbled backwards with a cry and landed on the ground. _Again_.

Cassandra sighed. "You should never fight when you're angry. Now stop this childish nonsense and go clean yourself up." She extended her hand to help the girl.

Her nose bloody, she got to her feet while shoving Cassandra's hand aside. "Let's go again."

"No."

"Come on! Don't tell me that Seeker Pentaghast – the woman who once rode a fucking dragon – can't handle a little girl?" Evangeline taunted.

"I'm handling an imbecile – is what this is," muttered Cassandra under her breath.

"_Let's go again!_" Evangeline shouted.

Metal clashed against metal once more, but at this point, much exertion wasn't required on Cassandra's part. Evangeline was enraged, bloodied and blinded. Whatever had come over the girl – she couldn't fathom. But, on some level, she understood the need for this release. Once, she'd felt it too. So she grudgingly conceded and fought back.

Three minutes later, the pommel of Cassandra's sword struck the back of Evangeline's neck and the girl crumpled face-first to the ground.

"What in Andraste's name are you doing?" came Varric's voice as he rushed towards the pair. He directed his question in Evangeline's direction.

Cullen stumbled close behind and threw himself between Cassandra and Evangeline. He glowered at the Seeker.

"Don't look at me," exclaimed Cassandra. "I just wanted to read my book and go to sleep. She's the one who stormed in and asked me to show her how to fight."

"It's true," agreed Varric. "I saw it."

Evangeline was on all-fours again. She chuckled as blood from her nose dripped onto the white snow. "Seeker, you are one fucking _badass_."

"And you're _insane_." retorted Cassandra as she spun around and headed to her tent. "I've had enough excitement for tonight. I'm going to sleep." She walked into her tent, and closed the flap firmly behind her.

Cullen lowered a hand in Evangeline's direction. She raised herself to her feet on her own. "Leave me alone, _Commander_."

"Are you hurt?" he asked, ignoring her remark.

"Fuck off. _Top of the world_." she said as she limped off. She actually did seem to be..._smiling_.

He made as if to follow her but Varric held out a hand in warning. "You should probably get some rest yourself, Curly. You don't look too great. I'll take it from here."

"But I – "

"You kinda lit that powder keg yourself. Best to step back and let someone else put it out."

Cullen shook his head, tremendously perplexed at Varric's terminology. "_What?_"

"I have this one. Goodnight, Commander."

* * *

><p>"You know, you have the most <em>soulful<em> eyes," murmured Evangeline as she cocked her head to one side and contemplated his expression. And then she cried out suddenly in pain. "_Ow!_ What the _hell_, Varric!"

He was undoing the mess of sutures she had created earlier in the evening as gently as possible. He paused, and pushed a bottle of ale in her direction.

She turned her nose up at it. "I _hate_ beer."

"It's the strongest ale in Orzammar," he said, hoping that the line would sell. It was partly true, anyway.

"Stronger than that in Par Vollen?"

_Now how in Andraste's name would she know about Qunari liquor?_ "Close." he replied.

"Will it numb the pain?"

_Oh yes. Both emotional and physical. I guarantee it_. He nodded as she guzzled it down. He hadn't intended for her to whittle it down in one blow. With any luck, realized Varric, in five minutes she'd begin to feel at peace with the world, not to mention – quite numb. In fifteen, she'd be pliable and barriers would be torn down. In thirty, she would start pouring her soul out to him. In an hour, she'd be dozing like a bear deep in hibernation.

Evangeline grinned and winked at Varric. Perhaps it was working quicker than he'd anticipated. He took advantage of it to begin stitching up her wound – _properly_. She didn't even flinch.

He looked at the child, for that was what she very well might have been, and saw a much younger, reckless version of himself. It was a time when his senses were drawn towards the visceral, tomorrow never came and...well, the stars that shone the most – burnt out the quickest. Bartrand's rapid descent towards insanity had jolted him out of his selfish, masochistic lifestyle – but only somewhat. Varric had found that he needed...an outlet. A form of release.

"You get a rise out of the pain, don't you?" he asked.

"Takes one to know one." she repeated, alluding to their earlier conversation.

"Now I'm not begrudging you that. _I get it_. But you gotta remember – this whole Inquisition thing – it isn't just about you."

Evangeline thrust her tongue out at him.

He chortled quietly. "I'm serious now. Like it or not – that's how they're going to see you. You're the Herald and you're going to have to maintain certain...appearances. But," and here, he eyed her coyly, "that doesn't mean you can't have fun on your own time."

Her face widened into a grin. "Out with it, Tethras."

"As long as you promise you won't throw yourself at the mercy of our Seeker's anger, or – for that matter – a rage demon's, we'll try to find another way for you to let loose."

She eyed him dubiously. "I like to dance. Do you like to dance?"

"On the odd occasion – maybe. But here's what I _do_ enjoy doing. Telling stories." He spoke slowly, allowing it to sink in.

Her jaw went slightly slack. "Are you working on a new book?" she said with considerable reverence.

"Not quite. But I'll tell you something you'll _never_ read in a book. You were right about Bianca," he began. The fire popped and crackled around them. "It's the one story I never tell."

With her violet eyes, she flicked them away and back to him several times, her cognitive process considerably decelerating. "Are...you telling me now? Or are you saying that you never want to talk about her again?" She sniffled in the chill air. "You're tall for an elf."

"You have a past of your own, kid. Like everyone else stuck in the same boat. You're not the only one here who's felt pain. Regret. Remorse."

Evangeline shook her head stupidly. "Your Orzammar booze is hitting me in the nuts."

"You don't have nuts."

She looked shocked and quite offended. "Now that's just _mean_."

Finished with sewing the gash up like a pro, he snipped the end off with a small blade. "So. About Bianca."

"Yeah?" waited Evangeline, expectantly.

Varric crossed two mental fingers in the hope that – in tomorrow's haze – she would remember very little. "We might have been an item..._once_."

"And now?"

His eyes smiling, he gazed up at her. "Her family sent assassins after me."

"No way!" she chuckled in disbelief.

"Yes _way_." He rubbed his temple in weary recollection. "You ever have that one person enter your life who just changes _everything_? The way she looked at life, the way she looked at _me_. It was pure and it's as if she knew me and I didn't have to say a word. She took me back to a time when I thought I knew who I was."

Evangeline grew silent and cupped her chin her hands. Every now and then, her eyelids began to droop shut, but she would shake her head like a wet, bedraggled dog to remain alert. She wasn't going to miss out on the chance to hear her favourite author bare his soul. And to her, of all people!

"The last night we saw each other – that we could be together as _us_, and not as clandestine lovers, sneaking about and looking over our shoulders – she looked so _lovely_ as she came up to meet me. She told me that this was going to be our last...well…_time_ together. She was getting married soon. To someone who wasn't me. At the point, that was all that mattered. I ended up hating her. I felt betrayed."

"And then?"

"Then I found out that she...she married someone else to save my life." He stared despondently at the fire.

Evangeline had slumped forward, and her head had begun to bob towards her chest. Within the span of a minute, she had started to snore. _Well_. That had happened in less than an hour.

But Varric went on at the night. "I knew she loved me. Probably more than she'd loved anyone. She gave me up simply so I could _live_. Live the way I'd wanted to."

He let out a mournful sigh and stroked his crossbow tenderly. He pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the slumbering girl. He tried to lift her up and grunted. "Might as well come out, Curly, and give me a hand here. I know you're there."

For the duration of an entire minute, only the sound of chirping crickets and other nocturnal animals met his ears. And then finally, feet shuffled against the snow-covered ground.

"I just wanted to make sure she was alright. I wasn't...well I was calibrating the –"

" – the trebuchets. Yes, I know. For someone who wants to maintain a professional distance with our Herald, you're not trying very hard."

Cullen shot up straight and stared at Varric in irritation and concern. "Alright, Tethras. Just how much _did_ you hear?"

"Enough." Varric looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Look, I'm not going to put this in a book if that's what you're wondering." _Oh, he was most __**definitely**__ going to put it in a book_. He'd just have to fabricate a few cheap monikers. But that was for after this whole Fade-unleashed-upon-the-world business. And, of course, he'd have to be alive at the end of it. "Just try not to stir things up more than you need to."

"_I'm_ stirring things up? Just how am I doing this?"

Varric rolled his eyes. "Never thought I'd be the one to give _you_ the lecture, but you have responsibilities here. The pair of you. She's just a kid, a kid who is very clearly in love with you, and –"

"She hates me!" exclaimed Cullen. "She couldn't care less – she quite literally pushed me away! Not the other way around! She said, and I quote: _stay the hell away from me_." Oh _Blessed Andraste_, he was pouring out his soul to the author of lurid, smutty, fantasies. For a horrifying fraction of a second, he worried if he was actually providing him with raw material for his loquacious tales.

"Because, clearly, those are the words of someone who no longer cares about you." nodded Varric, patronizingly.

Cullen raised his hands in frustration. "_Why_ are we even having this discussion?"

"Because _you_ came out here, or have you already forgotten?"

Something seemed to click in the Commander's head. "Wait. Hold on. Just how much of your conversation with her was for _my_ benefit?"

Varric grinned at him knowingly. "You gonna help me get her into her bed or what?"

* * *

><p>Their journey to Val Royeaux had begun well enough.<p>

"You know," started Cassandra, "if you truly want me to train you in the arts of demon-slaying, you have but to ask. However, I prefer it that you're of a calmer state of mind."

Evangeline, more than slightly bruised and battered, laughed in admission. "Fair enough, Seeker."

Cassandra relinquished a partial grin. She liked the girl, for the most part. It was apparent that their Commander seemed to rub her the wrong way, but that was not for Cassandra to judge. The Seeker had, as a young girl herself, witnessed her brother being slain...and to say that it had torn her apart was an understatement. Anthony had been her brother, her friend – everything good that she had aspired to be. And the world had snatched him in the most ignominious of deaths. In enduring his loss, she had exposed herself to physical agonies that she'd hoped would trivialize its emotional counterparts.

So yes, she could easily identify what Evangeline had been seeking. What had caused it, however, was none of her business.

When entering Val Royeaux, their engagement with the Chantry was confrontational at best. While addressing a small crowd, the Chantry had looked upon Evangeline as the murderer of Divine Justinia. And then, in what Cassandra had believed to be a positive spin on events, the Lord Seeker had shown up. It turned out that it was to be the sole high point of the afternoon. In a matter of a few seconds, Lord Seeker Lucius Corin struck the speaking Sister down. Aghast at his actions, it had taken Cassandra several moments to confront the head of her order. But as he dismissed Cassandra's loyalty to the Inquisition, he'd also dismissed her allegiance to the Seekers and paid her no mind.

The acquisition of an alliance from a personal enchanter and mage to Empress Celene, herself, and the support of an incidental Orlesian, elven archer, brought little consolation to Seeker Pentaghast upon their return to Haven.

* * *

><p>In the late afternoon, Varric took a stroll to keep pace with his thoughts through Haven's training grounds and barracks. There were things at work here that he couldn't quite comprehend. But as a writer, someone who was able to adeptly piece together fragments of a larger picture, he had come to understand that there were some things that he could not ignore.<p>

The elf, Solas, had seemed considerably disturbed after their return from Val Royeaux. Once, right after their confrontation with the Lord Seeker, and then again, with their conversation with First Enchanter Fiona. Or the woman who had once been the First Enchanter, at least.

Varric had finally, and quite grudgingly, decided to take matters into his own hands. He had – all on his lonesome – convened a meeting between Solas, Seeker Pentaghast, Leliana, the Herald, the Commander and their lovely Antivan diplomat, Josephine. He had felt that the group were not collating gathered information as successfully as they should have.

At the moon began its ascension into the night sky, the small company assembled in the War Room.

"Just tell them what you told me, Chuckles," began Varric.

"Please refrain from addressing me as such," responded a pained Solas.

"Oh, alright, _fine_. Just tell them what you said. _Solas_."

Solas inhaled deeply before continuing. "Seeker, there may be something that I have been keeping from you. I thought nothing of it, at first, but our good dwarf here insists that it's relevant."

Cassandra's lips visibly tightened. "What is it?"

"You are all aware of my expertise when it comes to dealing with the Fade?"

The six people before him nodded.

Solas continued. "To expand on this, I may have to delve a little into my experiences. I've been able to – in waking dreams – wander certain expanses of the Fade. I've journeyed to Ostagar. I've seen the Hero of Ferelden and the other Grey Warden Alistair – "

"Get on with it," dictated an impatient Cassandra. "Sister Leliana's got an elaborate report of your adventures and we've all read it."

"Ah." said Solas, as he lowered his gaze to the floor. He went on. "I am, sometimes, able to recognize the distinction between an embodiment of a Fade spirit and that of an actual individual. A spirit attempts to deceive a mortal's eyes by trying too hard, if you will. To the average person, everything appears to be status-quo. But to my trained eye, it's as if I'm witnessing a double-image. Something out of our plane of perception is striving to superimpose itself upon reality. And more often than not, it fails to do so. The result is a double-image. Slightly out of focus. Slightly off key."

"I take it that you've met someone...well, some_thing_ that matches this description?" queried Leliana.

"Twice, in fact."

Cullen leaned forward in concern. "Who...?"

"Lord Seeker Lucius. And Grand Enchanter Fiona."

"_Andraste, preserve us_..." murmured Cassandra – her voice tapering off into silence. The implications were more than a little disturbing.

"Wait. What exactly _are_ you saying?" asked Evangeline, not quite comprehending the extent of things.

"They may not be who they claim to be." responded Solas, his face solemn.

"Then...who exactly are they?" she persisted.

"Possibly abominations who've consumed and now puppet the flesh. But I'm more inclined to believe that we're dealing with demons who have either touched on or usurped the minds of their earthly counterparts." Solas sipped on a steaming cup of liquid before him. He grimaced as his taste buds made contact with it. "_What in the name of sanctity is this swill?_"

"It's tea," said Josephine, a little taken aback.

"It reeks of absinthe," he remarked.

Leliana pushed a pitcher of cold water in Solas' direction. He poured himself an unadulterated cup of it. "That would explain Alexius' invitation then." she said.

Evangeline, Solas and Varric turned their heads in her direction as she continued. "I've received a dispatch this afternoon from a messenger stating that Gereon Alexius wishes to meet with the Herald in Redcliffe. Cassandra, the Commander and Josephine have only recently been updated with this news."

"Who in the Maker's name is Alexius and how does all this explain his invitation?" asked Varric. _Andraste's sacred crown_, this was _all_ going down in his next novel. He felt like he should be taking notes.

"He's a Magister from Tevinter," explained Leliana, "and his...language betrays a certain keenness to acquaint himself with the Herald."

Evangeline sighed. "And by '_acquaint_', we mean – bop her a good one in the nogging, weight her limbs with stone and fling her into the sea."

Cullen conceded a tired smile that he tried to conceal from his companions.

"Well, I do love a good trap," grinned Varric.

Cullen's expression sobered suddenly. "We can't possibly use the Herald as bait."

Evangeline shot up, ramrod-straight in her seat. "_Use me as bait_."

"This is not the wisest course of action," noted Cassandra.

"What choice do you have?" asked Evangeline. "Either you refuse, he realizes our suspicions and we learn nothing...or we call his bluff, stumble across his master plan and save the world."

"Or you could die," said Cullen as he gazed blackly at her, "and we lose our only hope of sealing the Breach."

Leliana let out a deep breath. "Evangeline may be right. We're already in the dark as it is. If Alexius isn't responsible for the rifts in the sky, then he may know who is. We will have to take this risk."

Cullen snorted. "This is ridiculous. We can avoid all this subterfuge by simply approaching the Templars for help."

"And if the Templars are in cahoots with anything like this demonic Lord Seeker," argued Varric, "we might just have pounded on the last nail of our coffin."

Cassandra's expression grew decidedly grim. "I hate to be the one to say this, but Tethras may be right. How sure are you about what you saw, Solas?"

Solas drained his cup of water. "On a scale of one to ten – a solid nine."

"That's good enough for me," said Cassandra. "And the rest of you?"

"Well, you all know how _I_ feel," grumbled Cullen, "but I suppose I'm outnumbered here."

"Evangeline?" ventured Cassandra. "It's your neck on the line. If you want us to try something else, now's the time."

The girl gave the best lopsided smile she could muster. It came out watered down. "Walk in the park."

* * *

><p>Evangeline left the Chantry and headed towards Flissa's tavern. Despite three days having passed since the Seeker had tenderized her body, she was still a little sore and needed a release. So intent was she on reaching the sanctuary of music and revelry that she hadn't noticed the Commander walking alongside her.<p>

"I've walked into my share of traps in my lifetime, Evie, and they've not always turned out for the best." he said.

She gave him a disdainful, sidelong glare. "That's because you're _you_. Most people don't see me coming."

Cullen paused. Evangeline _was_ impulsive and unpredictable. Possibly even to herself. He shook his head. But this was stupid. Was she throwing herself in harm's way simply to prove a point? "You...you're the only one who can seal these rifts. If I..._we_ lose you, what will we have left?"

She regarded him impassively for a moment. "Commander, I don't carry this Inquisition on my back. That job's for you, your Seeker, your diplomat and Sister Leliana. The four of you have done this before I came along, and if I'm dead, you'll continue to do it long after. Have a little more faith in your companions."

Cullen's jaw tightened a fraction. He seemed slightly pained. "I just –"

Evangeline rolled her eyes. "Oh, _grow a pair_ and leave me alone. I'm going to go sing some dirty limericks with Sera and try to pretend tomorrow will never come." She looked him over briefly. "You look exhausted. You could do with some dirty limericks yourself."

His expression softened. "Like that Chantry Priest somersaulting into butter...?" he quipped, alluding to one she'd recited so many years ago at the Circle Tower.

She laughed softly. "Something like that."

And then she turned and walked away from him and into the tavern.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I didn't place this at the beginning of the chapter to avoid spoilers.

All of you brilliant people who've read and reviewed – I honestly never expected this many people to enjoy the story. I started this purely for head-canon's sake and because I believed it might possibly be something I'd enjoy reading. I think that, in more ways than one, you guys have breathed more life into the story than I ever could. I just hope I don't disappoint.

Also, I try to reply to all reviews as soon as possible. If I haven't gotten to you, work and life may have gotten in the way. In no way does that mean I don't appreciate the reviews.

In writing this chapter, I hope I haven't been too harsh towards Cullen. This story has made me explore his insecurities and failings. Am totally in love with his character, but there are moments where I do want to yank him by those feathered pauldrons (speaking of which – which bloody deity has decreed that they represent a lion's mane? It's Cullen himself, isn't it. Of course it is.) and tell him to "either get busy dying, or get busy living".

He reminds me (far too much) of someone I'm close to in reality. So if I'm a little unkind to our beloved Templar, please forgive me.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing.


	18. Come Undone

**Author's note:**

*Flings the juiciest chocolate chip cookies at readers and reviewers* - That's how effing cool you guys are. Thank you so much for following this story.

I'm finding it rather challenging to stick to the script of the game. Not in terms of dialog (yeah, um...not quite sticking to that either). As I may have mentioned before, I will be undoubtedly following the main in-game plots. Filler material will (mostly) be original. I'm really worried that – as I venture into in-game territory – the chapters will become tedious as, I for one, don't always enjoy wading through the familiar repeatedly. If this chapter and its subsequent ones grow dull, please tell me. Well, please be diplomatic about it, but tell me nonetheless as I'd hate for this story to become boring.

On another note, there is a short humourous section in here that I can't take all the credit for. I saw a picture on tumblr that inspired it. Can't remember who drew it though.

Lastly, the inspiration for the title comes from that super brilliant Duran Duran song. It was popular way before I was born but it's so damn amazing. Go listen to it!

P.S. I bought a fez today. Fezzes are cool.

* * *

><p><strong>Come Undone<strong>

**One Week Later**

Evangeline stood in the threshold of Haven's gates. Two hours sat between the dull, dark morning and that of sunset. An elderly woman paced outside her cabin. A throaty hum materialized from her throat, and the melody eventually vocalized into words of recognition.

_Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;  
>Thedas' joys grow dim, its glories pass away;<br>Change and decay in all around I see:  
>O Thou who changest not, abide with me.<em>

Evangeline struggled to maintain her breathing. Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine and her Cullen strove to shield these people from a horror that most of Thedas couldn't comprehend. It was natural that they flocked to the Maker and His Chantry for shelter. What safer asylum than that which an omnipotent deity could provide? In the past, the Chantry – in Evangeline's opinion – had served as pulpit from which to admonish and cast judgment. Believing in Andraste and the Maker encompassed a cult of belonging that Evangeline refused to be part of. And all of the Maker's followers only showered love upon their own. Those that didn't believe were ostracized and segregated. In more extreme contexts, the necks of such non-believers ultimately became acquainted with the sharp end of a blade.

_All that the Maker has wrought is in His hand  
>Beloved and precious to Him.<br>Where the Maker has turned His face away,  
>Is a Void in all things;<br>In the world, in the Fade,  
>In the hearts and minds of men<em>.

The psalm vexed Evangeline. Did no one stop to analyze the Chant and its hymns? She swore that the response that most had towards such inspirational songs were unadulterated emotion. In itself, that was not such a travesty. However, they relied on this fanatical high to guide them through their lives. Logic was a fallacy; a trait manifested by Maferath and his hellions – one that only served to hinder the Maker's word. It was utterly absurd.

She'd sung more eloquent dirges in the dark with delinquents and tramps.

Years in the past, she had sat with family as they stood in Chantry pews, deferentially bowing their heads in obeisance to a Maker that not one of them had ever laid eyes on. They were all intelligent, rational people. But through the threat of tradition, they'd put aside such sensibilities to secure their place in the promise of a hereafter.

She unsheathed her sword, pressing the cold comfort of tangible metal to her exposed skin. The here and the now had always brought her considerably more comfort than the assurance of an alleged afterlife.

Firm Chantry believers had asked her what she expected when journeying into the beyond. Evangeline had no answers for them. If oblivion awaited them, then what was the point in dwelling on it? And if indeed, something fairer stood at the road's end, she liked to believe that it was her father. Waiting, as he always did, at the end of their garden, to welcome her home.

* * *

><p>Cullen dreamed again of that last night at Shepard's Crossing, when they had both chosen to be vulnerable and exposed together. But as always, before they could step beyond that precipice, circumstance tore them apart. Sometimes it was demons. On other occasions, it was the Templars. But tonight it was something tall; yet masked behind mist and shadow.<p>

He shot up in his bed, a thin layer of sweat beginning to develop behind his neck and on his chest.

_We can no longer go back to what we were before. __**Friends**__._

He bowed his head and allowed his temple to rest against his palm. Was it pride that had driven him to those words? Was it some kind of barricade he'd erected to save himself from future pain?

But she had admitted to loving him. And, he had noted, she had said _love_, not _loved_. His Evie. Coincidence or fate or whatever the hell he'd wanted to call it, had brought her back to him. He'd been given another chance.

A week had passed since their previous conversation. Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine had taken into account several outcomes in arranging her meeting with Magister Alexius. Cautious as they were, they were determined to reach the bottom of this mess.

A cock crowed in the distance.

_He belonged to her and she to him. There was no denying it_.

He leapt out of bed, twenty-one again, and stumbled around his small cabin as he clothed himself. He shoved open the door with one hand as he just finished lacing up his boot. The soles of his footwear crunched against freshly-fallen snow and he jogged across the path to her quarters.

A Chantry Sister informed him that the Herald and her companions had just left for Redcliffe only an hour ago.

* * *

><p>Leliana's deft touch and influence was considerable.<p>

Ever since the disappearance of the two most famous Grey Wardens, Alistair and his rumoured lover – the Hero of Ferelden, she had been putting feelers out to trace other Wardens who'd receded into the background given their defeat against the most recent Blight. She was troubled by how little she'd found. But she should have considered herself fortunate, as many organizations had sought out the Wardens with little to show for their efforts. A single lead had led her towards lukewarm tracings of a Warden called Blackwall who she believed to be in the Hinterlands.

Their foray into Redcliffe had allowed Evangeline, Cassandra and Solas to make this detour. Through sheer luck, they had managed to run into Leliana's Warden. The weathered, stalwart warrior had grudgingly acquiesced to join their company. The four of them then made their way to Redcliffe's bustling tavern.

Cassandra, the Inquisition's current leader in all but name, approached Grand Enchanter Fiona. Introductions complete, the Seeker delved straight into the heart of the matter.

"The Inquisition would be glad of your cooperation and expertise," began Cassandra. "I am relieved that you sought us out first, however."

The diminutive Elven mage seemed perplexed. "Perhaps we are on different pages, Seeker, as I fail to understand what you're saying."

Evangeline, having only burrowed into this dialog for a few minutes, had already grown impatient. "You approached us in Val Royeaux. Or don't you remember?"

"I...did no such thing," said Fiona, in her heavy Orlesian accent.

"We were about to leave Val Royeaux when _you_ approached _us_," added Solas. He seemed to squint at her, in an effort at distinguishing illusion from authenticity. But Fiona had either not noticed his scrutiny or had chosen to ignore it.

The tavern's minstrel began to croon a Ferelden classic. The barmaid flitted between tables; her dry, tired eyes quite numb to the patrons therein. She neared Fiona, but before she could offer the former Grand Enchanter a drink, the elf waved her off dismissively.

"I haven't been to Val Royeaux in over a year," remarked Fiona.

Cassandra had to admit that small part within her refused to believe in Solas' suspicions. But this admission had her substantially disheartened. She'd faced shape-shifting blood mages in her past, but realizing that she'd been duped by an abomination shook her own faith in herself. Seeker Pentaghast was at a considerable loss for words.

"Perhaps this is just a misunderstanding," stepped in Evangeline in an attempt to set both parties at ease. "That aside, however, we would be most grateful for your aid in helping to seal the Breach."

"Ah," said Fiona with a degree of regret and sorrow. "I'm afraid that this is not entirely up to me. I...myself and people sworn to my cause have now pledged their allegiance to...another. In fact, here he is now."

The tavern's door creaked open. The man who stepped in carried with him an air of assurance, experience and quite possibly a history of pain. A younger man followed behind, and stood aside as his elder initiated conversation. The older man's proximity to Evangeline caused her to stiffen. She could feel something...heavy in the air. It wasn't pleasant. She bristled at his presence as he, in turn, appeared to size her up. As soon as he'd done so, he dismissed her and his gaze settled on Seeker Pentaghast.

He offered her a saccharine smile. "My recent excursions have taxed me greatly, but I have to admit that it is a pleasure to finally meet the Herald of Andraste."

Cassandra's lips thinned into a fine line. She seized upon this misapprehension and proceeded to assume the Herald's identity. She hoped that her performance would yield much-needed information. She had to know the extent of Alexius' knowledge. Did he truly not know what the Herald looked like? How could he not if he was behind the deception in Val Royeaux? Or was he simply calling her bluff and sizing up her mettle?

Evangeline was taken aback by this decision, but she was in no hurry to challenge the Seeker.

"We received your invitation only a few days ago," said Cassandra, "and we came as soon as we were able, so perhaps it's us who owe you an apology."

Alexius's mouth turned up into a smile, but his eyes contained little amusement. "Why don't we take a seat and address the nature of your visit?" He gestured to a large table in a corner, and then spoke to the young man who accompanied him. "Felix, why don't you see to our men in the meantime? They must be weary after our journey."

The man walked off.

"I shall get to the point." began Cassandra. "Grand Enchanter Fiona approached us in Val Royeaux, and said that she and her mages would be able to assist in sealing the Breach."

"What a commendable gesture," remarked Alexius. "Am I to understand that you have dismissed an alliance with the Templars then?"

Cassandra's jaw tightened. No blades had yet been drawn, but in this verbal assessment of one another they were well matched. "Nothing is set in stone. But we can't turn down help when it's offered."

Alexius feigned a regretful expression. "Alas, in this case, the offer is moot. The Grand Enchanter has pledged herself and her charges to me."

"_What?_" exclaimed Evangeline.

"A few days ago, a large party of Templars had cornered the mages. They were considerably outnumbered. It was pure happenstance that my men and I showed up. If it hadn't been for our timely arrival, the Grand Enchanter and her mages would have been slaughtered."

"So they're now your personal slaves?" said Evangeline.

Cassandra shot her a warning glance. _Blessed Andraste, the girl was at a loss when it came to subtlety and tact_. Evangeline clamped her jaw shut.

Alexius laughed. "Hardly. It was _she_ who swore herself to me."

At that moment, the young man from earlier crossed the room towards Alexius. "I've seen to the men, Father." Alexius gave the boy a warm smile and then introduced his son, Felix, to Cassandra and her companions.

Before the Magister could speak further, however, Felix stumbled forward onto Evangeline. His father cried in empathetic pain and rushed to his son's side. He fussed over him and beckoned to Fiona to attend to Felix.

Alexius gazed up at Evangeline. His parental concern appeared to be genuine. "I'm afraid, Herald, that we will have to continue this conversation another time."

"But – " Evangeline began, but Alexius was already rushing out the door with his weakened son.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Cassandra stared at the doorway in an amalgam of uneasy awe. "He knew who you were the entire time. And I was too stupid to see it. Oh, he's a clever one."

"Why the grand performance?" asked Evangeline.

"He was trying to see who was truly in charge. He was feeling the Inquisition out. He's going to want to continue our exchange at a later date, and when he does, we'll have to be ready."

"Oh boy," muttered Evangeline suddenly.

Cassandra turned her attention to the girl. She was gazing at a crumpled note in her hand.

Evangeline raised her eyebrows in disturbed amusement. "The plot thickens," she said as she read the short letter out loud. "_After your dealings with Alexius, slip into the Chantry. Make certain you're not seen._"

* * *

><p><strong>Haven<strong>

**Three Days Later**

The four of them assumed their familiar stations in the War Room. Cassandra sported a fresh scar on her chin. Josephine was slightly less bubbly given that she'd only had four hours of sleep the night before, and Leliana was her usual inscrutable self. Cullen rose towards a brazier and poured himself a fresh cup of tea. As he sat himself down, Cassandra began to speak.

"The mage, Dorian, believes as we do. He and Alexius were once close friends but have drifted apart. Possibly because of their conflicting opinions."

Leliana shook her head. "Conflicting opinions are too trivial to be real instigators. You and I disagree half the time, but you don't find me turning on you. There's something more. Something he's not telling us."

"He has approached us to help." said Cassandra.

"_To_ help, or _for_ help?" asked Josephine, as she backed her old friend. "There is a considerable difference. What if he's an opportunist?"

"He believes that Alexius is associated with a force that he cannot comprehend. And I have a strong suspicion that his allies are responsible for the holes in the sky." replied Cassandra. She went on. "But, yes, I understand your caution. We shouldn't underestimate him. There is a deviousness to his intentions."

"We can't possibly send the Herald to him," said Cullen. "As soon as she arrives in Redcliffe Castle, he'll hurt her."

Leliana glanced up at the Commander. It was finally clear to her that he felt something for Evangeline. Something that evidently surpassed friendship. In the information she had gathered regarding the youngest Trevelyan, Cullen's name was surprisingly absent. She had no clue as to the nature of their relationship.

But now, his eyes traced her when he believed no one was looking. During their meetings, he seemed to deliberately distance himself from her, as if he was afraid of how he'd behave when in close proximity. Cullen intended to feign an air of disinterest towards their Herald, but he was trying too hard, and Leliana – ever-observant – had quickly caught on. There were moments when she wished to bring the subject up solely for her amusement. It truly was comical to see their stalwart Commander blush and fumble when in the Herald's presence, but she thought it unkind to betray this knowledge.

Perhaps she'd save it for a later date when she was having a bad day.

"She's the one who volunteered, Commander." said Cassandra. "I would never force her to risk her life against her will."

"You do that every day – asking her to close the Rifts." he replied with a modicum of irritation.

"What choice do we have?" retorted a quick-tempered Cassandra. "If another solution presented itself, I would be more than happy to use it."

"She's a child," said Cullen.

The Seeker snorted. "Don't I know it. But she has us. We'll guide her down the right path."

"Or to her death."

Josephine regarded them with declining degrees of patience. "We're not here to argue with each other. We came to this decision an hour ago. Evangeline wants to see this through and we should take the necessary precautions to protect her. We don't like this any more than you do, Commander."

Cullen threw a hand up in dismissive despair.

"Where is Evangeline, anyway?" asked Leliana.

"She had a late night with Sera." said Josephine.

"We have _got _to keep those two away from each other," remarked Cassandra. "Together, they're capable of sending us to our demise faster than any demon."

Leliana smiled. "Evangeline needs the release. But yes, we might have to keep a close eye on them."

And then suddenly, almost on cue, the door to the War Room was flung open. In addition to her everyday wear, she was sporting a maroon-coloured bowtie. A thick curved scribble, which may have been a crude rendition of a moustache, sat in defiance beneath her nose. She stared wide-eyed at her advisors and then a fumble of apologies escaped her lips.

_Didn't know I was this late – won't ever happen again. Am glad you got started without me. And if the meeting is almost over, could one of you please tell me why everyone has this ridiculous grin plastered across their faces when they speak with me? I'm quite aware of the bowtie, but honestly, it can't be __**that **__humourous_.

Josephine raised a manicured hand to her mouth and giggled. Even Cassandra managed a mild grin. Leliana simply flung her head back in laughter.

Cullen immediately rose, as if contemplating his response, and then caved into a series of snorting chuckles.

Considerably irked, Evangeline gestured in their direction. "See? What the hell is so funny about this damn bowtie? I tried to take the blasted thing off, but it wouldn't budge. It's Sera, isn't it. I...don't remember a _thing_ from last night."

Leliana stood up, her chair scraping against the wooden floor as she did so. "Perhaps it's best if we close shop for now. We can reconvene tomorrow and go over our plans regarding Alexius."

Josephine's chortle tapered off into an entertained smile. She subtly drew her hand to her upper lip, but Evangeline missed the gesticulation entirely. Their laughter at her ignorant self was beginning to rapidly shorten her temper.

"Oh – for crying out loud – when did I suddenly become _that_ amusing?"

As the three women filed out of the room, Cullen found himself taking the initiative to point out the prank. He began clearing some reports of the table. "Pass me my tablets and toss out this tea. Then perhaps I shall acquaint you with a mirror."

Evangeline snarled, her tone snarky. "Yes, Ser. Right away, Ser. Three bags full, Ser. Anything I can get for you, Ser? Want me to brush your feathers, Ser?"

He folded his arms across his chest and smiled. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it, can you?"

Cullen led her by the hand to a mirror in an adjacent room.

Her eyes widened in humiliation. "_Oh, ruddy hell's bells_. I've been walking around Haven with this damned thing under my nose. Blackwall and Dennet couldn't even look me in the eye without grinning." She turned an aghast face in Cullen's direction. "I called Blackwall a _backwater jackass_."

He laughed heartily.

Evangeline licked the tip of her index finger and attempted to rub all evidence of Sera's artless prank away. But this only served to smudge the ink and thickened its intensity. "I look like I've got a fat, black caterpillar on my lip!" she wailed. "That damn elf. She's got a big one coming and she'd better watch it."

"Wait, hold on – you're spreading it," said Cullen as he repeated her actions.

His thumb pressed softly onto her upper lip and his remaining fingers brushed her cheek. His pupils dilated and within the span of a few seconds, he seemed to have forgotten what he'd begun. He remained frozen, as his hand moved slowly towards the nape of her neck. He lowered his eyes and stepped closer as –

"Commander – what the _hell _are you doing?" said Evangeline.

He shot backwards, surprised both at his compunctions and her reaction. "I...uh..._yes_."

Evangeline seemed annoyed. "Yes to what?"

"Water. Maybe you can get that off with some water."

She scowled at him and walked off.

* * *

><p>"I have a bloody letter from your blessed Herald!" yelled the voice. The Mabari beside him barked in accordance. "Tell her that Adric Fells is here."<p>

"I'm sorry, sir," began one of the gatekeepers, "but our Orders from Seeker Cassandra are to not let anyone in without her explicit consent."

The man waved a letter in desperation before the soldier's face. "Do you see the damned seal, oh ye of little brain and significant brawn? This is..." he ceased flapping the envelope and scrutinized the wax emblem momentarily, "...oh damn it all to hell. I can't distinguish the blasted thing since I've opened it."

The soldier had become mildly wary of the animated young man. He was most likely no older than his mid-twenties, possessed an unkempt mane of light-brown hair that was nearer to copper in the sunlight, and seemed in complete control of a Mabari war hound. The gentleman himself seemed of little threat, but the taut muscles that flexed themselves within the dog instilled in him a sense of caution.

"I'll tell you what I can do," said the officer, "I'll send a messenger up to the Chantry to verify your claims. If you're telling the truth, we'll let you in. Fair enough?"

The man scowled at the armored soldier. "It's what I've been demanding for the past ten minutes, you insouciant buffoon."

"Is there a problem here?" said a smoother voice.

Adric pivoted towards the interloper in irritation. His breath caught quite suddenly as he took in the statuesque figure beside him. His skin was a golden-brown, his hair – an unadulterated black. Underneath a bronze – mildly-fitting – tunic, his body seemed taut and toned.

Dorian thrust a hand out in Adric's direction. "Pavus. Dorian Pavus at your service," he smiled.

Adric shook his hand weakly.

"You know Evangeline?" asked Dorian.

"Uh...yes."

A lengthy pause ensued.

And after politely waiting for a response, "How, exactly – if you don't mind me asking?" ventured Dorian.

"We're friends. For a long time. I thought she was killed at the Conclave but then I got this letter." Adric handed him the note.

Dorian gave it a swift once-over and offered him his most charming, lopsided smile. Adric felt his knees weaken. "Come on, Ser Fells. Let's see if we can go find our illustrious leader."

* * *

><p><strong>Four Days Later<strong>

**Redcliffe**

During dinner, Alexius' welcome was hospitable and he was deliberately liberal when it came to the use of complimentary adjectives. Towards the Herald and her companions, at any rate. He also didn't bat an eye at the sight of Dorian's presence. His excessive congenial behavior almost guaranteed their eventual demise.

_He's going to lop our heads off, isn't he_...mused Evangeline miserably. _He'll go for mine first_. _Then Dorian's, then Cassandra's_.

She was relieved that they hadn't brought Adric or Bunty along. Some of the officers at Haven had regarded her Bunty as a weapon. Mabaris were war hounds after all. Significantly appalled, she had made Cullen promise her that Bunty would not be used to fight anything more than rodents. He had smiled in willing acquiescence and decreed this so in a daily dispatch to his soldiers. As for Adric, he had insisted on accompanying her. He was a more than capable warrior, but to bring him into this seemed selfish and reckless. Remembering a time so long ago – Adric lying weakly in a bed, his gashed wrists wrapped in gauze..._never again_.

After dinner, they adjourned to a hall. A modest dais lay before a hearth. Alexius took his place in an elaborate chair. He began to address their concerns about the mages for several minutes. His son, Felix, was nowhere to be seen. And then, just as Cassandra had almost wrapped up pleading for their cause, Alexius leapt out of his seat and held an amulet in Evangeline's direction. Neither she nor Cassandra were prepared for what happened next.

But that was where Dorian Pavus came in. With lightning-like reflexes, he seemed to counter Alexius' spell with his own.

The light that enveloped them was blinding. It propelled them through an airless tunnel. As the wind whipped around them, they found themselves plummeting towards water. In the next instant, Evangeline shook her head to gather her senses. They appeared to be in a dank, stone gaol of some sort.

"Now would you look at that," muttered Dorian as he stepped to his feet and began to examine their surroundings. He cocked his head at the spidery veins that interlaced between cracks in the masonry. "Red lyrium."

"Are we in that arsehole's basement? Where are the others?" demanded Evangeline.

"Not...exactly," said Dorian.

"_What?_ What do you mean – _not exactly?_ Are we somewhere else in Ferelden?"

"Oh, we're still in Redcliffe Castle, alright. But _where_ isn't the question. It's _when_ are we."

Evangeline glowered at him. "Please tell me we're dead and you're yanking my chain. Because I don't understand a bloody word of what you're saying."

"Time magic," stated Dorian, very matter-of-factly. "Lots of time magic. Alexius and I studied this...oh, about fifteen years ago. Our research was in its infancy then, and we thought our calculations purely theoretical. But there were aspects of it that were sound. I didn't think the old curmudgeon would actually get it to work."

"We...traveled somewhere in time...?" said Evangeline; incredulous.

"Now you're catching on," smiled Dorian.

"Past or future?"

"Only one way to find out," said Dorian decisively as he moved forward and out of the cells.

* * *

><p>It turned out that the extent of red lyrium was far more pervasive than they'd imagined. Small crystals had enlarged into larger ones, and the soldiers that Dorian and Evangeline encountered seemed to have been touched by it in some macabre way. As Evangeline dispatched her fourth soldier of the evening, she couldn't help but shudder as she saw the light leave his crimson eyes. Darkened veins manifested themselves through his paper-thin skin.<p>

_What was this damn stuff capable of?_

She kicked his corpse off a walkway and hoped that he would find some peace in death.

"We should find the others," she murmured.

"If run across them – yes. But we have little time for blundering about this place. Alexius, if the fool's still alive, will be in the large hall. We can't undo what he's done without him."

They made their way across a series of interior ramparts. "What has he done?"

"The more I see, the more I suspect that we've traveled to a version of Alexius' future. He's used the red lyrium to empower and leash his soldiers. But how could he possibly have access to so much?"

"But what does it do? I mean, I know it makes you strong and incredibly batty. Wasn't Kirkwall's Knight Commander driven mad by it?"

"I've heard the rumour," admitted Dorian, "and only the strong-willed can resist the effects of it for so long. Ultimately, however, it will consume them too – sooner or later."

"Is it addictive? Like regular lyrium?"

Dorian nodded. "More so. But the addiction and after-effects are curable if you catch it in its infancy."

As they moved deeper into the castle, its dilapidation worsened. A strong, sour odour hung in all the corridors. They came across the remains of three people – their bodies in the advanced stages of decay. Shards of red lyrium rose from their chest cavities, and Evangeline found herself wondering if this phenomenon had arisen prior to or after death. They eventually reached a section of the building where large chunks of the ceiling were missing, and the walls reached up to an open sky.

Or what had now become the sky.

Evangeline had forgotten to breathe as she stared up at it. A sickly green hue had removed all trace of the natural heavens. Massive blocks and boulders lay suspended high above them – akin to rafts of wood bobbing through water.

"The Fade," murmured Evangeline, "it's here."

"Oh Alexius," said Dorian in sorrow. "What have you done?"

Faint cries shattered their unearthly silence, and Evangeline spun in its direction. "Did you hear that?" she asked. "Someone's in pain."

"We have to find Alexius," said Dorian, but his expression grew concerned.

"Maybe we can save them, Dorian. We can't just leave them."

_But we can't take them back with us_, the mage thought. However, he found himself relenting. Even if they couldn't remove them from this blighted place, perhaps they could alleviate their agony.

The pair pushed open a heavyset pair of doors, and while Dorian set one guard on fire with his staff, Evangeline quickly brought down the second remaining one. A shackled figure hung from the ceiling. Dorian approached the woman and gently tilted her head towards him.

"You're supposed to be dead," came Leliana's hoarse voice.

Her once-beautiful visage was drawn and deeply scarred. She seemed to have aged decades. Evangeline delicately undid her irons and brought down the gaunt, fragile frame of the woman who she had only just started to call a friend.

"We're clearly very much alive," said Dorian. "We were thrown forward in time. Which begs the question – exactly how far have we come? And where is everyone else?"

"Alexius killed you both a year ago." Leliana rubbed her tender wrists. "And he murdered Empress Celene. That started a war that made the Blight look like a head cold. As for everyone else...they may be dead. I'm not entirely sure."

"Who's responsible for this? Certainly this is not all Alexius' doing." said Dorian.

"He serves someone called The Elder One." She regarded Dorian with a cold detachment and remained surprisingly calm at their presence. "And we don't have much time to sit around talking. We need to find him and get you back to where you came from. We have to stop all this from ever happening."

"Have you seen this Elder One?"

"No. But it doesn't matter now that you're here. Let's get moving."

Suddenly, Evangeline gave an anguished cry and stumbled to a wide table that lay against a wall. A man lay stretched across it. He was emaciated, pale and far too cold. But his blond hair and the scar that crossed his cracked lips were unmistakable. She slid her hand underneath his head and cradled him to her chest. She let out a low wail.

"They forced him to consume red lyrium in order to serve their Elder One," explained Leliana. "They wanted to control him. But it didn't work...he just gave up." She looked at Evangeline dispassionately. "You should have told him you loved him. Your death broke him."

"How is he still alive?" asked Dorian. He placed a gentle hand on Evangeline's shoulder.

"They bring him close to death and then revive him. There's a Red Templar here – Samson – he seems to take great pleasure in torturing him."

"Evie," said Dorian softly, "we need to go."

Evangeline pressed her head against Cullen's. He murmured something but didn't open his eyes. "No." she said. "Take Leliana and go."

"We _need_ you. If you stay here, all of this could still happen."

She didn't respond and began to rock her lover's body slowly.

Dorian looked at Leliana; helpless.

"He's not real," lied Leliana. "He's an illusion. Trickery meant to weaken you."

"He's real!" screamed Evangeline. "_He's real and he's hurt!_"

She tried a different approach and continued. "Cullen – the Commander from your time is still alive. He's waiting for you. If you stay here with this deception, he's as good as dead."

Evangeline turned a tear-streaked face in Leliana's direction. Dorian grasped her arm and began to pull the girl to her feet. She allowed himself to do so with considerable reluctance. Legs weighted and eyes hollow, she trailed behind the pair in complete silence.

* * *

><p>They found Alexius waiting for them in the same room that he'd initially brought about their world's end. An emaciated and corpse-like Felix stood beside him wordlessly. The Magister had done all this to preserve his son's life. The boy had acquired the taint during the last Blight and the Elder One had vowed to cure him of it if Alexius pledged his allegiance to him. But in saving the boy's life, he wasn't quite able to preserve his soul; he'd reduced Felix to a subhuman level. An enduring husk.<p>

Alexius appeared to regret his actions. But this wisdom was late in the coming, and quite aware of it, he seemed to be willing to submit to any fate that awaited him.

The all-too-quiet Evangeline suddenly stepped from the shadows and beyond Dorian's and Leliana's grasp. She flung herself upon Felix and ran him through with her sword. The boy crumpled to the floor. As desolate as Alexius realized his son had come to be, he reacted to this butchery in fury. Evangeline flung her sword to a side. As it clattered to the stone floor, she was prepared for an equally brutal retaliation. As she closed her eyes and Alexius raised his blade towards her, an arrow was let loose. The tip pierced Alexius' neck. Several more projectiles found their way into his flesh.

The Tevinter Magister slumped to the floor, gasping for air.

* * *

><p>The breath was sucked right out of their lungs, and the pair were once more flung to the ground. Dorian reflexively jumped to his feet. The Seeker - very much alive - had drawn her sword and had assumed an offensive stance. With Cassandra's help, he subdued Alexius before he could cast his spell a second time. Evangeline remained where she was – visibly shaken.<p>

As Alexius yielded to his adversaries, a retinue of the Inquisition's soldiers appeared and swiftly neutralized the Magister's guard. One of the Inquisition's knights approached the shell-shocked Evangeline and removed his helm. Cullen extended a hand in Evangeline's direction and gave her a worried smile. She blinked at him stupidly for several seconds before allowing him to pull her to her feet.

She flung her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.


	19. Unlatched

**Unlatched**

Their return to Haven was a somber one. Cassandra retreated into a pensive silence; contemplating the impossibly true tale that Dorian and Evangeline had been involved in. The acquisition of the mages' support wasn't as large a relief as she'd anticipated. For the moment, at least.

Dorian's usual sauciness had petered out as he mused upon Alexius' deeds. He was finding it tremendously difficult to comprehend how a man – who he had once called a close friend – had justified bringing the world to its knees. Granted, he'd valued his son's life over the lives of others, but Alexius had been good, once. He was principled and honest. Once. But, ultimately, realized Dorian, the poison of loss was capable of tainting the purest of hearts.

Evangeline herself seemed to want to remain close to the Commander. With dry, weary eyes, she would scrutinize his person every now and again. Cullen was keenly aware of it, but whereas he would normally welcome the attention, the intensity by which she studied him made him uneasy. He'd brought the matter to Dorian's attention, and found that the mage, too, examined him with similar apprehension – if a little less severe than that of Evangeline's. He would say little on the matter, however. But Cullen was no fool. Dorian's silence was indicative of an ominous fate that might have come to pass in the future had the pair not managed to stop Alexius.

As they returned the Inquisition's horses to Master Dennet's stables, the tentative light of dawn began to grace the sky. Evangeline gazed up at it in gratitude and relief.

Cassandra ambled towards her tent, and Dorian mumbled something about imbibing several flagons of ale. As Cullen began to remove sections of armor from his personal destrier, Evangeline walked slowly up the stairs and into Haven.

* * *

><p>After having dealt with a lengthy debriefing in the war room, Cullen was informed that a fresh shipment of Obsidian and Drakestone arrived from the Storm Coast. The goods appear to have been accompanied by a rowdy entourage who were led by a hefty Qunari warrior. Well, thought Cullen, given the pin-striped, neon pantaloons that the Qunari was sporting, he'd have to seriously reconsider the title of <em>warrior<em>.

The Qunari went by the unconventional moniker of _Iron Bull_. He was clearly respected by his crew – the Bull's Chargers. He had admitted to being Ben-Hassrath, and claimed that his people were growing increasingly concerned with the green tempests in the sky. They'd suggested that he ally himself with those who were fighting to restore the world to its original condition, and were willing to trade information and their skills at the cost of – what _they_ claimed to be – a modest fee.

The Bull and his Chargers made Cullen feel oddly relieved. The Inquisition's ragtag band were growing more _ragtag_ every day, but judging from the battle wounds and the way they carried themselves, they seemed more than capable. Cullen found himself wondering how much of the Inquisition's funds Josephine had had to shell out to recruit the small company.

Cullen introduced the Chargers to Cassandra and watched in amusement as the Bull flirted shamelessly with the Seeker. Cassandra wasn't standing for any of it, but it didn't deter the Qunari in the least. In fact, it seemed to spur him on all the harder. As Cullen left the rambunctious group in Cassandra's capable hands, he chuckled to himself on overhearing the Bull suggest that the woman would be formidably stunning if she would only dye her hair a burnt auburn.

The Commander strolled in the direction of the shipment of fresh resources. As he walked down the path, his mind wandered towards Evangeline's recent mood. Her listless and morose manner was so unlike her. Perhaps she simply needed reassurance, and he hoped that she wouldn't turn to Sera to for such distractions. He found himself nurturing the idea of taking the day off to spend with her.

As he rounded a corner adjacent to where the carts were stationed, he paused upon overhearing some of his men slip into languid banter.

"She rode a fucking dragon, my friend, and lived to tell the tale. And if that doesn't make her a _badass_, nothing else will ever come close." said one of them.

"Too cold though," replied the second. "Kind of like ice. She probably smiles on her own time, but not _once _has she thrown a grin in my direction."

The other man laughed heartily. "With _your_ ugly mug? You'd be lucky if a geriatric damsel gave you a second look."

His companion chuckled in response. "I'm just saying though. Our dear Seeker Pentaghast is one of the unattainable few. But the Herald, on the other hand..." he let his voice taper off in insinuation.

"Okay, yeah. I'll give you that. Wonder if she's got anyone back home in Ostwick waiting for her. It'd be a shame to let her close all those rifts on her lonesome."

"Are you _serious_?" he chortled in disbelief. "You want to hit on our Herald? I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't tap that, but she's Andraste's chosen. She's probably had to take some sort of vow of abstinence. You should narrow your ambitions. What about Maryden? Pretty girl. Nice singing voice."

He snorted. "Naw. Besides, she's got the hots for that blonde elf. Anyway, that whole abstinence rot is a bunch of bullshit. She's as available as you and me." He yawned in lassitude. "But just relax. I'm not going to do anything about it. Doesn't hurt to let my imagination wander though. Ever notice that she's a little spunky? I bet she's a real _firecracker_ between the sheets."

Cullen careened around the corner; his eyes blazing. The pair of men leapt to attention at his sudden arrival and fumbled their salutes. Breathing hard, he glowered at them for several seconds. He seemed at a loss for words.

He appeared to have recovered them. "_Say that again_." he demanded.

The taller of the two stammered. "We...uh...didn't mean anything by it, Ser. Swear it."

"Just idle talk," the second one chipped in.

_She is very much spoken for. I just...haven't gotten around to it yet. Talk about her like that again and I am going to toss the pair of you into the freezing lake. __**With**__ your armor on. You're nothing but a bunch of gossipy washer-women_. "It would be prudent if you kept your slanderous chatter to yourself. Or, _so Maker help me_, I'll have the both of you scrubbing the Chantry floors with a toothbrush. Have I made myself clear? _Do you understand?_"

They nodded repeatedly.

_Because if you don't, I'm going to personally man the trebuchet and fling you over the mountaintop_. "I will be occupied for the remainder of the day. You'll report to Rylen in the meantime. Now stop flapping your mouths, you idiotic layabouts, and start unpacking those crates."

* * *

><p>Evangeline sat on a boulder in the woods on the outskirts of the town, as she watched Bunty slide across the snow. The Mabari sprinted about in circles. Every now and then, he'd glance in Evangeline's direction and bark once; expecting rapturous applause. But the girl was a little despondent and couldn't summon the energy to do so. Bunty resumed his cavorting sans a chirpy audience.<p>

Evangeline had regaled Adric regarding their horrifying misadventure and he'd comforted her to the best of his abilities. But he seemed somewhat distracted and not his usual self. His ever-ready wit was lacking, and Evangeline wondered if her friend was coming down with a cold of some sort.

As she pondered this recent development, she hadn't noticed the person sneaking up on her.

"You're not cheering him on," came Cullen's voice from just behind her left ear.

Evangeline started forwards and almost fell flat onto the snowy ground. Bunty galloped at great speed towards the pair, and didn't seem intent on slowing down anytime soon. He crashed into Cullen's legs, and the Commander simultaneously laughed and winced in pain.

"Oh, you stupid thing," scolded Evangeline as she got to her feet.

Bunty jumped up and put his paws on Cullen's chest. He attempted to lick the Commander's face but he was too tall for the dog. "It's alright," said Cullen. "He's just an overgrown puppy."

"I wasn't talking about the dog," smiled Evangeline.

He leaned in close and wrinkled his brow in mock scrutiny of her face. "What's this I see? Is it...could it actually _be a grin?_"

She scowled but her eyes twinkled. Evangeline looked down at Bunty, who had begun to slobber lovingly over Cullen's hands.

"I think he remembers me," said Cullen. "Can he, I mean? It was such a long time ago."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wouldn't put it past him. But I think this affection is part-bribery. He may want you to cheer him on." She sat herself down on the boulder.

"Well, who am I to disappoint?" Cullen started clapping enthusiastically. The animal's ears flattened with the sheer pleasure of this reception, and shook his rear madly before bounding away to resume his laps. "Scooch over," said Cullen as he took his place beside Evangeline on the large rock.

He let out a whoop for Bunty's benefit and then playfully nudged Evangeline with his shoulder. "I'm very much alive, you know."

She looked at him in shock. "How did you – "

"Oh, _please_. I'm not an idiot, Evie. Dorian's been looking at me the same way too. Okay, so I died. But whatever future Alexius was going to help bring about is now never going to happen. We've averted a disaster. Note the key word here, Evie – _averted_. As in, _it's not going to come to pass_."

Evangeline looked at him sadly. He seemed tired, and several days' worth of bronze stubble covered his cheeks. She wondered if, after having left the Templars, he was experiencing the intense effects of lyrium withdrawal. He did seem somewhat weathered and thinner. But at the same time, a quiet fire seemed to burn in his eyes. It appeared to give him energy and bestowed a languid, carefree demeanor upon him. She didn't think she'd ever seen him this way since so very long ago.

She reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She attempted to withdraw it, but Cullen held on without exerting much pressure. She smiled at the ground, content to leave it where it was.

"I left you, you know. And you were wrong about one thing – you weren't dead." began Evangeline. "I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. For leaving you behind."

"It doesn't make a difference any more. You didn't leave me. You came back to me." said Cullen, very matter-of-fact.

"Yes, but –"

"Whatever happened to the Evie I knew who didn't dwell on regrets? What was it that you used to say..." Cullen paused as he struggled to recollect an old memory. "_I'm not going to let the past claim you_. _Life is for the living?_ And then you shoved me into a lake. I'm here to return the favour. Well, the not-let-the-past-claim-you portion. The lake-shoving is optional."

Evangeline closed her eyes in embarrassment. "Oh, Maker. That seems like such a long time ago. It was nice though, wasn't it? While it lasted, anyway."

Cullen gave her a sidelong glance. "I know we have..._heavier_ responsibilities now, but it doesn't mean we can't slow down for a minute to catch our breath." He fixed his eyes on the tree line and away from her. "And...uh...you know. I...well, pick up where we left off. Maybe. I mean, if you want to." He rubbed the back of his neck.

Evangeline raised her eyebrows and stared at him. A spark ignited within. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Lothario. Whatever happened to," she cleared her throat in preparation to imitate his voice, "_we can't be friends anymore. And it's Commander. Call me Commander from now on_. Huh, _Commander_? Where'd all that go?"

He swallowed and his cheeks flushed a deep pink. "Okay. I think Cassandra must have clouted me over the head that day. Or maybe I over-calibrated the trebuchets a mite."

"Oh no," she persisted on the verge of laughter, "you won't get away with that _crummy_ excuse for...an excuse. Try harder."

"I slipped on the ice...?"

"Harder."

"Dorian made me drunk."

"Oh, for pity's sake." she rolled her eyes.

"I inhaled several feathers from my pauldrons."

Evangeline bent over and howled in laughter.

He put a hand on her back and massaged it gently. "Or, you know. Maybe I fell in love."

She gagged momentarily, and he had to slap her back lightly. A beat and then she was breathing normally again. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She brought a clenched fist to her mouth and coughed once for good measure. "Yes – of course." Her voice seemed high-pitched.

Bunty, who'd retired from lap-running for the moment, turned once to look at the pair to ascertain that they were both alright, and proceeded to snuffle through the snow in search of new smells.

Cullen took a deep breath. "What I said the other day; about you leaving me for Stroud – that was my lowest blow yet. I was out of line. I suppose there were so many things I wanted to say on the day that you left and long after – but I never got the chance to. What I felt...well, it was rather ugly. I was angry. And then you wandered back into my life; I was under the stupid impression that you...that you never cared much in the first place." He gave her a watery smile. "I now know that you do. That is, I think you do. Or do you not...?" Cullen's voice tapered off into silence. _She was going to say no, wasn't she. Of course she was_.

"I...yes. I think so. I mean – I do. More than you know. But we're –"

This was a familiar dance yet it shredded his nerves to pieces. But he seized the moment. He wrapped his hand around her nape of her neck, brought her to him and pressed his forehead against hers. "It will be okay. _We_ will be okay. We'll take it slow; one day at a time. And if you find that you don't feel the same way down the road, I'll do my best to back off."

"Ah."

He faltered. "That was...a very troubling _ah_."

Evangeline scratched her forehead. "It's just...what if you and me become _you_ _**and**__ me_," she said, hesitant to come up with the term – _lovers_, "wouldn't that ruin everything if we didn't work out? Curiousity could prove to be a heavy load."

"You mean our friendship?" asked Cullen. Evangeline nodded and he continued. "I'd be lying if I said that we would certainly remain friends. I...don't quite know how I'd handle losing you again. But I'd try. For _you_, I'd try. But...I do need to know what exactly you're afraid of. Is it truly the possibility of a wrecked friendship that's throwing you off? Or are you frightened of what happened in Redcliffe? In the future, I mean."

_Damn you to hell_, thought Evangeline to herself as she contrived to remain serious. _Damn you for being so perceptive_. "We're not exactly stumbling into one another during the best of times, Cullen. Alexius' future may never happen, but there are still dangers down the road. And you're a Commander of an army. Not a goat-herder."

Cullen beamed at the ridiculous thought. "Doesn't sound too shabby, actually. You know the world's gone to hell when running about the countryside after cattle seems infinitely more appealing."

"Well, if we make it through this in one piece, perhaps Adric, Bunty, you and I could retire to a cozy little place in the hills."

"You'd never settle for retirement. You'd be bored to death and kill us all at the end of the day," he noted; conceding a grin before his expression turned solemn. "But could you really pass up something potentially..._wonderful_, just because you're afraid? That's not the Evie I know. It's not your style."

Evangeline squeezed his hand. "I...can't lose you. Couldn't bear it. Saw it once and don't ever want to feel that way again."

"So. You're saying that you're going to avoid losing me...by _losing_ me? That's _some_ logic." he chuckled.

"You know what I mean."

"If you truly want to play that card," he challenged, "I could say the same. But it's not stopping me."

"It _certainly_ isn't," taunted Evangeline.

"I can't help how I feel. Maker knows I've tried. My entire life...I've been alternatingly fighting and resisting. It's either one or the other. And it makes me so very tired. Everything that's happened – at the Circle, losing you, Kirkwall and then leaving the Templars..." His voice trailed off.

Cullen's eyes dimmed somewhat, and in this interval, a considerable weight tugged down on his shoulders. He had aged a decade in the length of a few seconds. He went on. "It was you who made it bearable. Even when you left and I hated you for it – in my denial – I still loved you. I tried to stop loving you. Tried so hard. I couldn't do it. And then you came back, and there's no point in struggling against it anymore. Am I...not entitled to some happiness? Or at least, can I not fight for it?"

He was here now, just as he'd been there then. Perhaps he was right. Maybe their feelings for each other would never dissipate nor peter off, maybe it lingered in the air patiently – content to wait a lifetime simply because that was its nature. Something within her snapped open and she longingly invited it in.

Before she knew it, she flung her arms around him and buried her head against his neck. She breathed in the scent of him – sweat and that fresh essence that evoked in her an onslaught of very dear memories. Memories with _him_ in each frame. "Oh, you're _incorrigible_."

And then, at her words, he was young again. "Is that a _good_ incorrigible, or should I submit myself to a proper flogging?" he jested.

Evangeline still held on and laughed. "Yes." She leaned back abruptly. "I mean, yes, to us trying. Not to a flogging! Good grief. Perhaps Sera's into that sort of thing, but I can't abide it." She shuddered at the thought of the second notion.

Quite unaware of it, Cullen allowed a relieved and dreamlike smile to cross his face. So pleased was he at her response that he felt compelled to badger her some more. "I've got to warn you, though. I'm nothing like those absurd protagonists in that tawdry drivel that Varric writes. You know, like that Sharp Toe fellow."

"_Sharlto!_" corrected Evangeline, as she endeavored pitifully to seem appalled.

"That's the chap. With the soulful eyes and acerbic wit. I can be...quite the grouch. Not really the overly-sensitive hero type. I'm a knight in rusted armor."

_If only you knew_, mused Evangeline. "You're the best curmudgeon in the world. Just...let's take it slow, alright? Can you do that for me?"

"I will try my _utmost_, Evangeline Trevelyan. Although, I feel the need to point out that of the pair of us – _you're_ the more impulsive. Which begs the question – if you relent first, should I assume that your...embargos have been lifted? Will I then have sanction to broach the fort of – "

"Stop. Just _stop_." she laughed as she coloured. "You might be in dire need of some practice in that venue."

Cullen gave her lopsided smile. "You really shouldn't relinquish the habits of a lifetime, Evie girl. Especially not now." He brushed a loose strand of black hair from her face. "Onto lighter matters then. In addition to wandering up here to pour out my soul to you, I did have another reason for wanting to speak with you. I took the day off."

"Uh...what for?"

"To polish my rock collection."

"_Oh_."

"No! You silly goose," he slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tenderly. "I thought we could do something together."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, now. Ever since Sera gave you that delightful little 'stache right about here," he playfully brushed her upper lip with the thumb on his free hand, "It's time for a little payback, don't you think?"

She gawked at him in disbelief. "Are you _insane?_ The Commander and the Herald prancing about Haven, playing pranks on people? Cassandra will _personally_ escort us to the gallows. And tie the noose around our necks. And kick the stools from under our feet."

"Maferath's balls – do _you_ have an imagination. But I do have a solution that might make this possible. I was thinking we could sport a few disguises."

Evangeline's face lit up like a beacon and she went slack jawed. "You are so _completely, utterly, magnificent_."

The pair whistled for Bunty and raced down the path and towards Haven.

* * *

><p>"Don't touch the hair!" he protested as she neared him with a bowl of powdered charcoal. She had already smeared the tips of her fingers in it and was prepared to transform his blond curls to a sooty black.<p>

Evangeline huffed at him in exasperation. "Well, what's the point of a disguise then? You won't even wear these silver pantaloons!" She nudged her foot in the direction of a pair of embroidered, cuffed, silk trousers that she'd manage to dredge up.

"Those are Josephine's! I'm not going to wear a woman's...breeches!"

She stopped and gave him an impish look. "Wait a minute, now. What's so terrible about a little soot in your hair? Certainly you can wash it off later."

"I...don't like soot." He was desperately plumbing the depths for an excuse. "I get a rash. On my scalp."

Evangeline wasn't buying any of it. "So you _have_ rubbed it on your head before. Might I inquire why? Do you dress up as a swarthy Antivan at night and scout the taverns for an exotic temptress? Or perhaps it's _temptresses_. What _do_ you get up to during these evening soirées?"

"Maker's breath," muttered Cullen for lack of a better response.

She took a step towards him. He backed away. Her elfin expression had yet to dissipate. "Come on – just a dab."

His stomach tightened. "I'd really rather not."

"Tell me why." She brought her sooty fingers up dangerously, as he strategically placed a table between themselves.

Cullen shook his head.

"You must put a great deal of effort into it, no? Are you afraid I'll muss it up?"

"I do no such thing. That kind of _experimentation_ is best left to women."

He'd piqued her interest to such an extent that letting the matter drop had now become unthinkable. She neared the table and started to climb over it to cut off his retreat. "Come hither, my soon-to-be swarthy Antivan."

"_Blasted knicker-weasels_, Evie – you stay away from me!" he exclaimed, as his face had broken into a wide smile. However did she manage to instill this onslaught of playful fear? And why the devil was he standing for it? Had anyone else devised such an idea, he'd have given them an exemplary telling-off.

She was on top of the table now, crouched low and ready to pounce. In a frantic attempt to flee, Cullen leapt to one side and tumbled into a pile of bascinets, which in turn knocked into several cuirasses and finally, a collection of steel greaves. As he struggled to disengage his person from this sea of armor, the clamor only intensified.

The cacophony drew the attention of Varric, who jerked open the flap of the supply tent and flung an incredulous head within. An on seeing Cullen surrounded by the metal mess and Evangeline laughing uproariously on the table with blackened fingers, his overactive imagination went haywire.

"I don't want to know," he mumbled before striving to walk off.

"No, please stay," gagged Evangeline in between surges of laughter. "We...need your help."

The dwarf's eyes shot back and forth from the pair. "I'm not that sure if I'm into _that_ sort of thing."

She hooted even louder. Breathing even once more, she was able to continue as Cullen extracted himself from his mishap. "We were going to play a prank on Sera. And then Cul – er, the _Commander_ here said we'd have to disguise ourselves. But – as you can see – we're making a very poor show of it."

"It's a _show_, alright," noted an amused Varric. He shook his head before he finally regarded the two of them with a twinkle in his eyes. "Come along, then. The both of you. I might have a few _choice_ suggestions on the matter."

* * *

><p>In the end, the entire scheme was concocted by their resident, illustrious writer. Varric debriefed the pair to put together a profile on the precocious elf, and was able to use this information to tailor a prank specifically suited for her. Of the two options he'd come down to involved the local minstrel, Maryden, and a good, old-fashioned scare. The blonde archer lacked the steely resolve when confronting demons – quite contrary to most of her companions.<p>

Both roads seemed rather extreme, admitted Cullen and Evangeline. But then again, Sera rarely set her own limits when it came to having a laugh at another's expense. Just the other day, she'd let loose a jar of bees in their apothecary's cabin to assess their effectiveness at dispersing an enemy. Adan had rushed out covered in angry red welts, and had sworn that he'd personally fling her and her diabolical ways into the Fade.

Perhaps she did have a lesson coming after all. They intensely contemplated their choices.

Maryden was noticeably growing more enamored of Sera; much to her chagrin. Cullen, Evangeline and Varric conjured a hypothetical scenario where they would place the pair in an intimate setting together and watch as Sera squirmed. But toying with the feelings of Maryden – who would have been an innocent partaker – seemed cruel in the long-run, so they tossed the idea aside.

Demons it is, then, said Varric. With nostalgic recollection, Varric informed them that in his youth, he'd once acquired a rather clever puppeteering mechanism. Being somewhat intoxicated at the time, he had managed to assemble a rudimentary marionette with the aid of only a wooden dummy and some cloth. He'd properly frightened his brother Bartrand with it. Bring the dummy and a large cutting of cloth to him, he said, and he'd see what he could do.

Garbed in more reasonable disguises – Evangeline as a capped, everyday officer and Cullen as a hooded monk (he had neatly escaped doing anything untoward to his hair) – the pair ran off in opposite directions to carry out Varric's orders.

* * *

><p>"Would you be so kind as to inform me, Ser Fells, why your rook bears a strong resemblance to an Antivan whore?" asked Dorian as Adric began to assemble his chess pieces on the board.<p>

The younger man fumbled about. "It's...well, it's Evie actually. Far too whimsical a creature."

Dorian glanced up at Adric in the candlelight. He certainly was striking. The ex-Templar possessed a boyish visage still well into his late-twenties. A mop of sometimes-bronze, sometimes-copper hair flopped over his brow and from time to time, he would unconsciously push it back with an endearing brush of the hand. Adric came across as very self-assured and facetious, but in Dorian's presence, a bad case of nerves seemed to percolate through to his exterior.

"I find that intelligence and whimsy are rather becoming traits. Good for her." said Dorian with a knowing smile.

"Oh. Well then, I might have had a hand in some of the designs." said Adric suddenly. _Andraste's tits_, was that the _best_ he could come up with?

"I had an inkling," remarked Dorian. He moved his pawn forward. "So, do you play often?"

"Whenever time permits."

"Who with?"

"Evie, mostly. Well, there _was _one other person, but they're gone...now." Adric's eyes dimmed a degree and Dorian's perceptive nature caught it.

"Ah. It pains you to speak of it, then?" inquired Dorian gently.

Adric nodded wordlessly.

Dorian tactfully changed direction. "I used to play against myself actually. My father always did say that you _are_ your own worst enemy. Eventually, I tired of it and sought the company of other ardent devotees. Did you know that your choice of tactics reveals much about yourself?"

Adric raised his head a fraction. "I'm aware of it – yes." And then, on further consideration, "are you assessing my competence right now, Pavus? Surely you can't have gathered much from this short span of play."

"On the contrary," argued Dorian, "with the few moves you've made thus far, I've deduced that you're quite cautious. You feign this air of impatience, but you really do take the time to think things through. The need for caution is likely a consequence of a painful lesson. That, and you're much more sensitive than you claim to be."

Adric leaned back in his seat and exhaled. Was he supposed to be pleased or disturbed? "I'm...not sure I care to play further. Psycho-babble's all well and good, but there _is_ a time and a place."

Dorian chuckled. "I apologize. Perhaps we could discuss lighter matters, instead. Would you mind terribly if I ran off and fetched us some of Leliana's honey-wine?"

Adric shook his head and watched as Dorian left the small cabin. A languid smile crept across his lips.

* * *

><p>A full moon lay hidden between fractured clouds as the pair snuck behind the small huts that lay outside Haven's Chantry. A small ruckus had erupted in the Chantry as two soldiers came to close blows over a woman, but the tumble had died down and music settled over the locale. Sera had eventually left the tavern, rather inebriated. They followed her at a safe distance as she returned to her abode.<p>

"Where'd you leave it?" whispered Evangeline.

"Behind a tree outside her window." replied Cullen.

"He's quite the jack-of-all-trades, isn't he?" said Evangeline. "Coming up with this idea at the last second?"

"Pity he can't work his magic on his penny-dreadfuls." He tossed his hood back. "I can't see a damn thing with this on."

She ignored him. "It's dark anyway – no one's going to recognize you without it now." She shuffled behind the large conifer and search for Varric's contraption. "Where's the blasted thing?"

Cullen joined the search. "I left it right here. It had a tarp over it and everything."

"Don't tell me that someone nicked it?"

"How could anyone have known that it's here?" said a flabbergasted Cullen. And then, he squinted at something distant. He pulled Evangeline to his side and pointed. "I think I see it, but...Evie, why is the marionette moving?"

She stiffened in alarm. For a horrible second she wondered if Varric was in cahoots with Sera. But that seemed quite impossible. She stared, transfixed at this puzzling conundrum. The wooden dummy plus puppeteering strings _plus_ furred disguise seemed to have tipped over onto the ground. The large fur coat shook with great fervor.

The pair stepped cautiously towards it. Cullen stepped on the tarp that had covered the device. It seemed to have slipped off upon...possession.

Now only several yards from the shivering thing, Cullen's chest began to heave repeatedly. Eventually he couldn't contain himself and let loose a string of snorting laughter. He clutched at Evangeline's shoulder – unable to neither breathe nor stand.

"What? What?" she exclaimed.

He pointed.

The wide rear end of some kind of animal had thrust itself out from beneath the furred garment. It shook in the air and grunted. It was too short and stocky to be a dog. Evangeline soon realized that it was a boar. But what on earth was it doing beneath the marionette's cloth trappings?

"He's..._he's having his way with it!_" Cullen landed on his own rear and slapped the snowy ground hard. He tried to shove a fist into his mouth to keep from getting any louder. "I'm going to die!"

Evangeline's jaw dropped, but she had little time to succumb to the humour of it all, because the boar ceased his exertions and, quite tangled up in the cord and wooden limbs, took off into the night – dragging everything on top and behind him.

"He's on the move!" cried Evangeline. "Come on, you stupid oaf – we've got to get that thing off him before he terrifies the entire town." She yanked the Commander to his feet, but he was so red in the face that he lagged several steps behind her.

For a creature enmeshed within Varric's apparatus, it moved swiftly. Evangeline and Cullen chased the animal behind a string of cabins and even once as it careened round the corner of the tavern. Fortunately, the revelry was maintained indoors and no poor soul was witness to these events. Finally, the animal began to slow down and darted in a zig-zag pattern. Part of the cloth had slipped over its eyes and it stumbled blindly forward before eventually crashing through a flimsy cabin door.

* * *

><p>Filthy and exhausted, yet tremendously entertained, Evangeline and Cullen paused within the doorway to her quarters. It was well past midnight and most of Haven was now asleep.<p>

"He'll never forgive me." she said. "Oh, bloody hell, Cullen. If only I'd known that he and Dorian... I thought he was coming down with something. I didn't know that..."

Cullen wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. "They were just playing chess, nothing more."

"Yes, but it could have been a prelude to something more until..." she let out a loud chuckle, "...that damned animal came along."

He shook his head. "If it truly _does_ lead to something more – if it's meant to be, then a boar in heat isn't going to get in the way of that."

In her mind's eye, she saw the animal cavorting through Haven with their foiled prank atop it. "If I laugh any more, I think my face will split in two." she said smiling.

"Best get some sleep then." He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. He turned and made as if to leave towards his own room.

"Yes. Um...unless – "

He jerked around, all attention on her.

"Would you like to spend the night? I mean – not _spend the night_. Just maybe sleep together. Like we used to before. If that's okay."

"It's more than okay." said Cullen, his voice low.

She looked down the empty hallway. "Will anyone see?"

"I'll...uh...leave early. Before people wake up."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The bed creaked slightly as he sidled up against her back. Evangeline could feel his breathing quicken, and she was certain that he, in turn, could hear the _lub-dub_ of her heart. But he simply kissed her hair. He slid one arm beneath her head and with his free hand, he clasped her own. He stroked her skin gently with a calloused thumb.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" he asked.

_More than comfortable_. "Yes. Do you have enough room?"

He laughed softly. "Yes, I do."

"Thank you. For today. This might be a tale for the ages." she said as she closed her eyes.

"Maybe Varric could use it in his next novel. And you're very welcome." he said, his voice smiling in the dark.

"Goodnight, my knight in rusted armor."

He kissed her again. "Goodnight, Evie girl."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

It's getting very late so I need to make this short. Thanks and thanks again for reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you guys.

I am on an 80s kick. I'm listening to this music that existed before my time and it's so incredible. A shame I'm only discovering it now. Drew on a lot of it for this chapter. Thanks to Jeadin and Togukawa Blitzer for great suggestions. Will welcome more if you have any.

So I guess I've finally come down to starting Cullen and Evie on this path. I'm going to pace it slow, as I think both will be somewhat gentle in their approach towards one another. More than anything, I want them to be friends before I fling on the _benefits_ part of it. Also, am very concerned with how I wrote Cullen's character here. I wanted to show that he could be young and really quite funny especially when he allows himself to. I hope this isn't too out of character.

Alright, to bed then. Love you guys!

P.S. For fellow Cullennites out there who don't already know, Greg Ellis has recorded some ringtones especially for us. Big round of applause for the dear man.

P.P.S. The DAI tavern songs are currently available to be downloaded for free from the official DAI site. They're only going to be free up until Feb 9th.


	20. Well, Shit

**Author's note:**

I seem to have consumed something that's ripping my stomach to pieces, so I'm going to have hastily wrap up this chapter and dive under the bed sheets for the rest of the day. Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. Also, as I don't have a beta reader, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that are probably going to be in here. I don't really feel like going through a chunk of text right now.

The Haven attack stuff is always difficult to write, but I hope it doesn't come across as too angst-ridden or protracted. Also not tedious.

I have to go. Man. I feel like hell. I'm going to have to watch some Sesame Street now.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, <strong>_**Shit**_

After the late night's calamity, Adric sat in bed, prepared to weather several hours of circular deliberations. He leaned against the bed frame, arms crossed and feet stretched out in front of him. Somewhere in the darkness lay Bunty – where after minutes of attending to his canine self – had finally settled in for the night. Adric regarded the dog in envy. Certainly, living in the moment had its drawbacks, but it had its benefits as well. How simple it must be to not only postpone, but _forget_, the cares of the day and embrace sleep whole-heartedly. Because, Maker preserve him, it had been a trying night.

All considerations of lusting boars aside, it was the evening with Dorian that had troubled him greatly. The Tevinter must be at least five years his elder, was a remarkably competent mage, and possessed such poise that could only be matched by his dapper appearance. So why then, of all people, had Dorian taken an interest in him? Did the man have very few friends? Was Adric the only compatible person within a civilized mile – and, if that was the case, would his attentions prove to be short-lived?

Adric ran his fingers through his hair. He would not be a plaything to a fickle man. He had sworn to himself that after Peter, after someone so dear to him had been stripped of emotion and then murdered before his eyes, he would trust his heart to no one. For the most part, he'd kept this promise. But that wasn't to say that he had abstained entirely from the physical pleasures of life. There were times when Evangeline's friendship – precious as it was – was unable to fill that void. On days where both pain and longing contrived to bring him down, he would frequent the local taverns and engage in a battle of numbness with numerous tankards of whiskey. Some days the alcohol emerged triumphant – and Evangeline would appear to help him home, and on others, he'd catch the eye of an outsider and they would retire together, content to lose themselves in one another for a single night. The world begrudged him the love of his life, so he felt entirely justified in these pursuits.

_Said the pot to the kettle_, realized Adric suddenly.

If Dorian felt similarly, then who was Adric to complain?

_Because this is different_.

The situation? Or the man?

Adric flung exasperated hands in the air. He leapt off the bed, startling the dog, and stormed out of his room.

* * *

><p>The Chantry halls were atypically quiet, and the echoes of Adric's steps across the stone were unnervingly loud. He treaded softer, and the sound of his footfalls became more tolerable. He pushed opened the door to Evangeline's room with the expectation of rousing her from her slumber to pour out his soul to the girl.<p>

What he saw gave him considerable pause.

There was another sleeping figure on the bed who was on his stomach – face pressed against a pillow – with one arm draped across Evangeline's torso. She, in turn, was snoring softly and, unaccustomed to sharing her bed with anyone save for her Mabari, lay on her back with her right leg strewn over that of her nighttime companion's. The bed sheets lay crumpled at their feet.

Curiousity was getting the better of him and he found himself tip-toeing in. He bent slightly over the man and had to cover his mouth quite suddenly to keep from breaking out into laughter.

_Well, how do you like that_. It was evident that the Commander and the Herald hadn't engaged in anything sexual, but at the same time, their sleeping positions bore a lovers' familiarity.

Adric crept over to Evangeline's side of the bed and poked her shoulder. Nothing. He poked her again, and this time, she snuffled and pawed at her nose with her left hand. For whatever reason, the other was tucked under Cullen's sleeping form.

_Poke_.

"_Sod off_," she mumbled – half-awake.

"There's a strange man in your bed," whispered Adric devilishly.

"Hmph?"

"_There is a strange man in your bed_." He drew out the words for effect.

Evangeline fumbled into a seated position, and yanked her arm out from beneath Cullen. The Commander, in turn, roused himself upwards quickly and blinked stupidly at his surroundings. The pair gazed at one another for a good minute as the events of the previous night trickled into memory.

"It's not what it looks like," managed Cullen as he stared in horror at Adric.

Adric forged an aghast expression. "Did you take advantage of the girl? I know she can be impulsive, but this is certainly quite beneath you, Commander."

"No! Maker's breath – I would never do that. You have my word, Adric, that I would never –"

Evangeline poked Cullen with her foot as she massaged her pinned-and-needled right arm. "He's having you on." She turned her angry attention to Adric. "What time is it? What the hell are you doing in here?"

"A little before dawn. And I should be just as astonished at your antics!"

She was having none of it. "_Just shut it_." And then, to Adric's amusement, she addressed Cullen far more gently. "Are you alright?"

"I suppose so...yes." Cullen looked at Adric. "Does anyone else know?"

"Of course not. No one, save for the guards outside, are up at this hour."

"Are you going to –"

"_Tell?_" A bewildered laugh escaped Adric's lips. "How old are the three of us, exactly?"

Cullen gave him a relieved smile.

Cullen deftly pulled his trousers over his underpants as Evangeline looked on indulgingly. She appeared to be giving the Commander an appreciative grin. Adric felt compelled to turn away; the nauseating needle hit the limit of his meter.

"Will I see you later tonight?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Cullen said, with warmth. And then, upon taking in Adric's sickened expression, he cleared his throat and it was business-as-usual. "I...uh...perhaps we will run into each other in the war room. We have to decide what we will do with the Breach, after all."

Cullen swiftly gave her a peck on the cheek and departed Evangeline's quarters.

Adric shot a comical expression her way. "And what, dear Herald, was _that_ all about?" He sat down on the bed beside her.

She flushed, thankful of nighttime greys that concealed the reaction. "He...I...that is to say, we..."

"Are the pair of you a _thing_ now?"

Her mouth flopped open and shut like a fish gasping for water. "_You_...now I wouldn't – _yes_." She sighed with resignation. "I suppose we're very much a _thing_."

"Well, thank goodness for that. I felt as if I was on the verge of an angst-ridden play that would have led their audience well into their geriatric years by the time the star-crossed lovers tumbled into bed together." Adric propped himself up against the head of the bed, extended his feet out in front of him, and folded his arms across his chest. "Anyway. Enough about your escapades. I need to tell you about tonight."

Her face rapidly grew contrite. "Adric, I am so sorry for the boar and everything – if only I knew and – "

He shushed her with a dismissive wave. "I don't give two figs about the damn boar. I want to know what you think of Dorian. You did travel into the future with the man, after all. Granted, it was a dark one. But there's no better time to judge a man's character than when he is beset by dangers on all fronts."

She rolled her eyes at Adric's sensational narrative. "He's a good man," she began.

"Don't start with that good-man rot. Tell me _why!_"

Evangeline gave him a dark scowl. "I was just getting to it!" Her face softened in recollection. "He's practical – but in a good way. We were blown into this alternate reality and whereas I was ready to throw in the towel and declare myself insane, he had this pragmatic approach to it all. But that's not to say that he was callous! Anyway, after I found...well, Cullen, he was so gentle with me. And he was terribly sad too. Sad at _my_ sadness. You don't see that in many people."

Unknowingly, Adric had begun to smile. But then the smile instantaneously disappeared as his analytical nature took hold. People could be kind _and_ still be willing to use others. Both traits weren't mutually exclusive.

Evangeline's voice pulled him out of his reverie. "He's got a heart, Adric. Honestly. And there are times when he looks so sad and he covers it up with a clever remark. Sort of like Varric, but with narcissism."

Adric snorted. "The last thing _I_ need is someone who's completely in love with himself."

Evangeline grasped Adric's hand in the dark. "But he's not! He just wants to give people the image of it. You have to try to let go of Peter. If he were here, he'd _want_ you to."

"If Peter _were_ here, I wouldn't want to _be_ with anyone else." said Adric astutely.

"I mean, as a disembodied voice from...the heavens. He'd want you to move on. As a disembodied voice."

Adric brushed his hair back. "Well. Fine, then. I suppose the fact that we're even having this conversation could be evidence that I'm taking some tentative steps in that direction."

Evangeline grinned. "I never thought I would see the day."

"Oh, for pity's sake. It's not as if I'm getting married or anything."

She held his hand earnestly. "Just please try. For me. For your old girl – Evie? Sometimes I worry about you more than I let on. This whole Fade business makes me want to soil myself every time I see another rift in the sky. And if I don't make it –"

"Why would you not make it?" exclaimed Adric, his voice unintentionally loud.

"_Just listen_. Like Varric said – _this shit's getting real_. There are some days I don't know which end's up. And not because of that rot that Sera feeds me. Look at my advisors, and then look at me. Look at everything they've accomplished and then look at me. _I'm a whelp!_ Half the time, I'm just flying by the seat of my pants! We have to be practical and entertain the notion that I may not make it through this. And then who's going to look after you and Bunty?"

"Stop being so melodramatic," lied a pained Adric.

Evangeline directed an emphatic index finger at him. "Now, Adric Fells, you _know_ I'm not. Ninety percent of the time you'd be right, but not now."

"Why the devil are you telling me this?"

"Because you'd fall apart without me. As I would without you. Unless you had someone you could lean on. Which is why I want you to try. Dorian's a decent man. He truly is. Give him a chance."

A lengthy silence followed. "You're a daft old crone," he finally said with considerable fondness. "But I'll try. Don't know how far I'll get, but I'll try. And you're forgetting something, old girl."

"What's that?"

"Chances are that if you fly into the heat of battle, I'll be hot on your heels. So try not to get us both killed, okay?"

Evangeline laughed and kissed his hand.

* * *

><p>Lieutenant Rylen marched into the Commander's quarters with a very disconcerted expression across his mien. His breath was ragged – not from his recent exertions, but the implications thereof – and his gait was purposeful, if not a little desperate. He waiting outside the Commander's tent as several petty officers trickled in. Rylen grasped both hands behind his back, and decided that the matter could simmer for a few minutes longer. After the junior cadets filed out, Seeker Pentaghast strolled in. It was at this point that Rylen brushed a clammy hand through his sweat-soaked hair and the last of his patience petered out.<p>

He parted the flap of the tent and walked in.

Soft splats of freezing rain hit the tarp above. Rylen could see his warm breath vaporize before him, even within the mild warmth inside.

Seeker Pentaghast was handing over a report to the Commander, when the pair noticed his presence. They glanced up with a mix of curiousity and apprehension. Rylen was an even, tolerant individual. It took considerable weight to dislodge his calm.

"Lieutenant?" said the Commander – placing the report on a nearby table. He lay a steadying hand on the pommel of his sword.

_Best out with it as quick as can be, then_, realized Rylen. "We've lost several of Leliana's scouts by the Breach, Ser." He nodded at Cassandra absently.

"Define: _by the Breach_," directed Cassandra, as her dark brows lowered in concern.

"She had placed her people within a mile-radius of the Breach to inform us of any changes to the situation, but my men attempted to make contact and were unable to find anyone." His Orlesian accent was coloured with tension.

"Not even a body...?" ventured the Commander.

Rylen shook his head. "I...Commander, I have lost an entire troop of men save for two soldiers who have managed to make it back alive. We have a fallback position that is currently moderately fortified. We don't know how much longer it will hold out. The rift appears to be widening, and the demons that seep out of it are blood-thirsty and enraged."

"It is because they are driven mad by this world – its colours, touches and smells. It is like nothing they've ever known, and it assaults all their senses at once." called Solas' soft yet firm voice from the entryway. "Forgive me for the intrusion, but I feel that I have to lend credence to Rylen's observations. Even if they assume ignorant origins."

Rylen threw a sharp look in the elf's direction. "I've lost ten men, Mage. I knew each one of them personally. I hope that you will excuse me if my _perceptions_ of demons are blemished with the implications of their death. As we do not belong in the Fade, so too do demons not belong in our world."

"I suppose that on that point, we are agreed," conceded Solas.

Cassandra scratched her forehead in impatience. "What have you come here to tell us, Solas?"

"My dreams in the Fade have become increasingly troubled of late. There is a disruption – even at their end of the world, and it appears to be tumbling over into ours. This would explain the expanding rift." He narrowed his eyes in solemnity. "If we let this go as is, chances are that the rift would extend its reach into Haven."

"What are you saying?" asked the Commander. "Is it time to close it?"

Cassandra shook her head. "The Herald isn't ready yet. I've trained her every morning for the past few weeks, but she is unschooled in several aspects of demonology. She attempts to anticipate their moves, but how can you do so when even your opponent is unaware? She needs more time."

Solas regarded her with furrowed brows. He repositioned his fingers along the stave by his side. "Seeker, you of all people surely realize that during such trials, we cannot afford the luxury of time. Circumstances have been exceptionally kind to us already. We have the support of the mages. Perhaps it's time to do away with the Breach once and for all."

Cullen gave Cassandra a reluctant expression. "As much as I might hate to admit it, he may very well be right." He turned to Rylen. "What does Leliana say on the matter? Is she aware?"

Rylen nodded. "She has debriefed the two survivors. As for what decision she has arrived at, I cannot say."

Cullen lowered his gaze briefly to the ground. A more miserly facet of his nature wanted to concede to Cassandra's wishes. Placing Evangeline in harm's way was becoming a necessary habit. The girl was a skilled warrior, but she was no Seeker Pentaghast. Was she ready to handle an onslaught of Fade spirits? Very likely not. Or was this conjured justification purely for her preservation? Did he simply not wish to lose someone he cared deeply for?

A minute-long period of introspection gave him the troubling answer he needed.

"We can't sit idly by as this rift grows. Perhaps we should convene a meeting to come to a decision. Once and for all." he said finally.

* * *

><p>A flame flickered against a draft that snaked in through some cracks in the masonry. Josephine raised herself from her seat and moved the candle to a sheltered corner of the room. In the meantime, she also lit two more oil lamps to illuminate their small gathering. As she sat herself down, their spymaster thrust back her grey hood, clasped her hands in front of her and began to address the four before her.<p>

"We daren't send out another scouting party to search for the bodies. The area's getting to be too dangerous. At best, the trenches we've fallen back to will only hold for a day or two at the most."

"If they broach that," said Cullen, "they've essentially damaged our foremost supply route. Haven will have to be evacuated."

Josephine clasped her tablet tighter. "Perhaps we should evacuate Haven's citizens regardless."

"And go where?" balked Cullen with a snort.

"Maybe somewhere in the hills – where it's safe. Once the Breach has been closed, we can pull our people back in."

"We need time to scout the pass. Several days at the very least." said Leliana.

Josephine rolled her quill between forefinger and thumb. "Is there no place safe for us to retreat to? Our influence is growing – surely we must have allies we can call on. And have we truly not considered the possibility of an evacuation?"

"Ambassador," began Cassandra who had silently been deliberating all the while, "you of all people know that our allies are only capable of giving us their rhetorical support. The nobles will stick their fingers in the air to first see which direction the wind's blowing. They are as clueless as we are when it comes to the origins of this mess. Our common enemy is nowhere to be seen. What it boils down to is that we are closer to the danger. They are not. They will not help us. And besides, even if they were to rush to our aid, it would take days for word to reach them."

"We've considered giving safe passage to a few score. Not the masses that have flocked here," explained Cullen – his voice strained. "In order to displace a crowd of this magnitude, we need more scouts, soldiers, healers, _months_ of supplies – "

Josephine raised a placating hand. "Alright, _alright_. I understand. An evacuation is impractical."

"At least one without urgent cause to," offered Leliana. The spymaster turned her attention to Evangeline. "And what recourse do you believe we should take? You've been surprisingly quiet."

Evangeline sat rigid in her chair, hands tucked beneath her thighs. Her eyes flicked to Cullen, but he'd avoided looking at her during the entirety of the discussion. She wanted to believe that it was due to the events of the night before, if only for the purpose of it being a frivolous reason. But the tightness of his jaw, the pale white corners of his lips and the circles beneath his eyes betrayed a more burdensome apprehension. He knew what had to be done, as did they all, but they were too reluctant to take the leap. At least not without exploring other avenues of choice.

Of that, recognized Evangeline, lay a massive dearth. Assuming the most nonchalant stance she could, she gave a quick shrug of the shoulders. "We have the mages. Let's close the Breach."

Leliana gave the Commander an encouraging smile – if slightly tinged with sadness – and pretended not to notice as he concealed a shaking hand underneath the table.

* * *

><p>In the end, he needn't have been so worried. At least, not about that.<p>

Fiona and her charges were not only proficient, but were as good as their word when they pledged themselves to the Inquisition. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Evangeline's advisors had treated them as allies and not as potential abominations. They thrust their staffs towards the ground in unison as they directed their power into Evangeline's mark.

While the citizens of Haven were perched between probable celebration or panicked flight, the Commander of the Inquisition had shielded Haven with layers of defense. A small contingent of warriors were ordered to help the Seeker and Solas keep the demons at bay while the Herald was to close the Breach. A triple-row of soldiers who weren't to break formation unless Haven was truly threatened held a line about an eighth of a mile from the torn Fade. Leliana's archers had taken tactical positions above this front to dispense of any stragglers that could possibly slip through.

As Cassandra and Solas worked together to destroy the final demon that had emerged, a mighty wind blasted about everyone in the vicinity. Cassandra tore her gaze from the rapidly-closing tempest and onto Evangeline. The girl had planted her feet apart – a hand held up in defiance towards the rift. A gust blew past her, nearly knocking the Herald onto the ground. Cassandra stumbled forward and placed a pair of strong arms around the child, for that was how she had come to see her, holding her upright to finish this once and for all.

* * *

><p>"You never say no to a sodding drink – <em>you!<em>" cried Sera as she held a tankard of whiskey tantalizingly before Evangeline. "Come on, Heraldy-Weraldy. Did Cass shove a pole up your arse?"

Evangeline pushed the mug away with a reluctant grin. "I want to, you dumb twat. Just don't feel like it."

Sera leaned in close; her breath laden with liquor. "That's exactly when you should. Drink up! So you can feel up!"

"That makes no sense," said Evangeline.

Sera gave her a wide grin. "I know, right? That's what's so brilliant about it."

The pair were sitting on a stone wall, their feet dangling in front of them, watching Haven's townsfolk make merry in the firelight. Maryden stood somewhere among the throng, crooning beautiful melodies into the soft, night air. Evangeline watched as embers from the fire lifted up on small drafts of wind.

Adric joined the pair with a tankard of his own. He knocked his noisily against Sera's and the elf hooted in approval.

"Of all the times you choose not to drink, my little alcoholic," began Adric, "this should _not_ be one of them. Or it should be. I...oh, for pity's sake. My participles or somesuch are throwing me off entirely. Double negatives be _damned_ to the Fade!" He took a large gulp of his drink.

Evangeline gave him a bemused look. "You mean this is _not_ one of the times that I should _not_ indulge or...?"

Adric glanced away as he attempted to work the puzzle out through the fog of inebriation. "I...what?"

Evangeline laughed.

"If you get her to take a swig, Mister Hoity Toity aren't we grand," started Sera, "I'll show you my bees."

"I've seen what your bees have done to Adan, my dear elf, and I'll have none of that, thank you."

Sera splurted out what appeared to be a chortle together with a spray of her drink as she doubled over. "That was right funny."

The clanging of a distant bell sounded in the night.

"That's not so funny," mumbled Sera.

Evangeline slowly got to her feet. She looked toward the mountaintop but couldn't see much from this angle. She repositioned herself. Dots of firelight speckled in the distance. Was someone sending Haven aid?

_Well, they're too bloody late_. _Haven's already safe. And I might have had a bit of a hand in it. Quite literally_.

But invisible tendrils of fear snaked through the air. Something was awry.

Evangeline ran to find the Seeker. The pair almost knocked one another over as they rounded a bend. The bell sounded again, and revelry was rapidly morphing into confusion and panic.

"There's someone at the gates," said Cassandra – concern tempered with weariness blanketed her beautiful, aquiline features. "He claims he wants to help."

"Not good?" was all Evangeline could muster.

Cassandra shook her head and pulled the Herald along with her. The soles of their boots crunched against day-old snow. And as Cassandra nodded approval in the gatekeepers' direction, Haven's hefty doors swung open with a distinctive, low groan. A knight, no, a Templar, crumpled to the ground to reveal the form of a young boy. His pale, drawn pace was slightly masked by an oversized hat. It was almost comical, given lighter circumstances.

"You took his mages," the boy said softly. "You took his mages and he's angry."

"_What?_" cried a male voice behind the pair. Cullen stepped forward threateningly, and the boy shrunk back in fear.

"It's okay," said Evangeline as she held up a placating hand. "Whose mages?"

The boy pointed several inches above the tree line.

Cullen pulled a spyglass from underneath his coat and peered through it. "_Maker_..."

"Cullen?" said Cassandra.

He spoke, his voice hoarse. "They're coming for us."

"_Who's coming?_" demanded the Seeker.

The Commander handed her the viewing instrument. She snatched it and took a look for herself. Her lips thinned and she handed the apparatus back to Cullen. "Get everyone inside the Chantry. _Now_. Evangeline, you and I are going to have to hold them away from the gates."

"The trebuchets," said Cullen. "It'll only take a few well-placed shots to bring the mountain down around them. But we'll need to aim it just right. I'll help you hold them off."

"No." said Cassandra. "You're going to go to the Chantry and take this..." she glanced at the young boy, who had now introduced himself as Cole, "...Cole to help you. Get everyone inside safely and then bring your men out here. The mages as well. It appears that we will need their help once more this night."

Evangeline watched this entire exchange transpire in bewilderment and fear. "Would someone please tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

"Red Templars," said Cullen as he touched her arm lightly. "Led by someone I used to know."

"_Samson_..." whispered Evangeline.

He gave her a barely perceptible nod. And then he was gone, and had taken Cole with him.

"Come on," muttered a determined Cassandra. "Let's hope you didn't partake too avidly in tonight's festivities."

"Never thought I'd say this, Seeker," said Evangeline as she conceded a grim smile, "but not a bloody drop touched my lips."

For the briefest of moments, the two regarded one another and grinned.

* * *

><p>They had defended two of the trebuchets, had catapulted several hits, until a fireball seemed to careen towards them from the heavens and effectively rendered the first completely useless. Several soldiers including the Seeker and the Herald were flung to the ground upon impact. Evangeline was on all fours and stared mutedly at the ground. A strong arm yanked her to her feet. As it did so, she could hear the Seeker ordering every remaining soldier in the immediate vicinity to defend the last trebuchet outside Haven's gates. <em>Have two men aim the blasted thing. The remaining few would defend the two to the last. This is what the Commander has trained you for<em>._ You're fighters – every last one of you. So do what you were born to do and make the bastards work for it._

Everything was a cacophony of elements in complete disarray. Noise, movement, heat, cold. The Seeker was dragging her up Haven's steps. She could hear the familiar groan of the gates as they slammed shut with frightening resolve. She looked up at Cassandra questioningly.

_What about the men outside_, her face seemed to ask?

Cassandra frowned and pulled her on. Evangeline watched as Cullen stalked past them with a contingent of soldiers on his left flank and several mages on his right. He was positioning them by Haven's gates; readying them for an assault that would eventually lay siege to the small town.

A few minutes later and they were all in the Chantry.

As Evangeline searched for any sign of Adric or her dog, the Commander eventually broke through the crowd and towards the pair. He took in Evangeline's appearance in relief. Apart from being dazed, little harm had come to her. He made a mental note to thank the Seeker later. Cole, now unafraid of the Commander, stood by his side.

"How bad is it?" asked Cassandra as she began to wipe of flecks of blood from her gauntlets.

"We have a dragon." said Cullen, matter-of-factly.

"Wait – what? Like a roaring, rampaging dragon? With fire and the like?" balked Evangeline. She raised her hands in mimicry of feral claws for effect.

"It's an archdemon," said Cole.

Evangeline's arms fell limply to her sides and she went slack-jawed for moment. A fragment of composure regained, "Oh. Well. That's just _lovely_."

"What in _Andraste's name_ is an Archdemon doing here!" shouted Cassandra.

"I...uh...may have something to say about that," came a quieter voice next to and below the Seeker's line of sight. She immediately searched for its source.

Varric gave her a wan smile. "It's Corypheus. And he commands the Archdemon."

Cassandra pointed an index finger at the dwarf in furious disbelief. "Corypheus is dead. You and Hawke killed him. _You've_ been smoking something that isn't tobacco. _That_, or you've shot yourself through the brain with your own damn crossbow."

"I wouldn't joke at a time like this, Seeker," said a conciliatory Varric.

"It doesn't really matter who or what he is," offered Cullen pragmatically. "What matters is that we might have a way to get everyone out of the Chantry and to the hills to safety."

"What?" said Cassandra.

"Chancellor Roderick – he's badly injured – but he says that he remembers a path leading from the mausoleum out back. It's overgrown now, but he's walked it enough times that he believes he can retrace his steps."

"It's true," said Cole.

The Seeker gave him a doubtful glance. _How in the Maker's name would __**you**__ know?_ But she had little time to pursue the matter. "Fine. Get them out. I'll stay and –"

Cullen shook his head. "If anyone should stay, it should be me. The Inquisition is not prepared to lose their Seeker."

"And so losing our Commander is a better option?" scoffed Cassandra.

"I'm just trying to reason –"

"You lead an army! These men trust you! How am I supposed to earn that trust? Teach them? How?" she demanded.

"I've calibrated the trebuchets more times that you can imagine. There's one left and if we can use it to our advantage, we can lure Corypheus here and bury him and his horde."

"And then you'll die!"

"The loss of one man is infinitely preferable to the loss of –"

"Oh, would the both of you shut up!" shouted Evangeline. Cullen and Cassandra looked at her in astonishment. "The Inquisition needs the pair of you. It began with you, and it will end with you. But not today. Now," she turned to Cullen, "give me some of your men. Not too many – just spare me a few."

"_No._" stated Cullen, his neck muscles tensed and strained. "You can't do this."

She paid him no mind and looked at Cassandra. "Find me Bull and Blackwall. We're going to have to cut a hefty swathe through that lot out there. Give me some heavy-hitters." The Seeker acquiesced and disappeared with Varric into the crowd.

"And what am I – chopped liver?" came Adric's voice to her right. He teetered slightly. The events of the night did not appear to have sobered him completely. She scowled, but said nothing. She would deal with him later.

"_What the hell are you doing?_" demanded Cullen.

"Where's Bunty?" she asked Adric.

"With Sera."

"Maker help us," muttered Evangeline, but there was nothing to do about it now.

Cullen stepped forward and angrily wrenched at her arm. He looked desperate, and so very angry. But when he spoke, his voice was low. "What are you doing?"

"Improvising," she offered – as a weak grin crossed her face. "You know I'm good at that."

"Me too." chirped in Adric.

"_This_ is different. I _order_ you to stop this buffoonery at once and leave this place with the rest of these people." His grip tightened, but she didn't pull her arm away.

Evangeline gazed at him lovingly and placed her free hand up against his face. "Look, you know I love you. I would never...okay, well, I would _mostly_ never lie to you. Look past all this chaos and see what you, Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine have accomplished. Look at how much hope you've given to all these people. I'm...I'm just a catalyst. Right place, right time kind of thing. I'm not Andraste's chosen, and you know this. I have this strong feeling that the four of you – provided you work together and not bicker like imbecilic infants – can put an end to this without me."

His nails had now begun to dig into her flesh. But she went on. "I'm not made for politicking. I can't strategize beyond a battlefield and let's both admit that I'll never quite amount to how badass our Seeker is. I'm a small fry, Cullen. Now you guys? You four? You get things done and you get it done _right_."

"You can't. I won't allow it."

Out of her peripheral vision, she could see the approaching figures of the Qunari and the Grey Warden. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Okay."

"_What?_" said Cullen – a smattering of doubt in his voice.

"Okay. _Fine_. What do you want me to do?"

He released her arm. "I...uh...go gather with the rest of the group at the back of the Chantry."

She made as if to leave in the direction of the throng when he pulled her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. And...well, Evie, you're not lying to me are you?"

She turned to him and locked eyes with him for several moments. "I would _never_ lie to you."

"Swear it."

"I swear it."

Cullen's countenance suddenly implored her. "You may be as silver-tongued with the rest of your friends, Evie, but I can read you better than you may know. Why do you feel the need to lie to me so?"

Adric quickly intervened. "Because she doesn't want to see you die a second time, and because she's right. And _you _know it. The Inquisition needs you alive, Cullen." He reached out and slapped Cullen on the side of the head, and briefly glanced about to see if anyone had noticed. In the cacophony, it appeared that they hadn't. "You're a Commander of the Inquisition's army. Start acting like it. Think bigger picture. If the Inquisition loses us pipsqueaks, it'll struggle at first but it will right itself in the end. It's going to require all _four_ of its limbs to move forward. You've got this ball rolling; now see it through."

"I'm not losing _anybody_," insisted Cullen as she stared at Evangeline.

_Is he truly going to be this insufferable?_ "Okay. You blond arsehole. Then do this for me. Go lead these people to safety. Do your fucking job. Once they're alright, I grant you..." she fumbled about for the applicable terminology, "..._sanction_ to come look for me afterwards. I'm your goddamn Herald and I'm exercising my...heraldic powers."

Cullen stepped forward and grasped her chin in his hands – neither gently nor roughly. "And _you_ better damn well promise to stay alive."

"Cross my heart and hope to –"

He placed a finger on her lips. "Don't finish it." Evangeline couldn't be sure if it was a trick of the flickering light, but his eyes appeared to moisten. He moved closer and then wrenched himself back. "_Come back to me_," he said once more before losing himself among the people he had sworn to protect.

In the next minute, the Seeker stepped back into view.

"Are you sure this is the wisest course?" she asked, her voice tempered with concern. "If we lose you, we lose our only chance at shutting the rifts down."

"Well, we've closed the mother of all rifts tonight, didn't we? Should be a walk in the park to take care of the others. And I have news for you, Seeker," said Evangeline as she leaned in close and whispered in Cassandra's ear, "I'm _not_ the Herald of Andraste. Which means that you guys will get along just fine without me."

Cassandra jerked back, unsure if this was blasphemy or reassurance. Knowing Evangeline, it was more likely a bit of both. "I...will miss you. And will pray for your safe return despite all your heretical beliefs."

"_You badass rebel, you_." She shook the Seeker's hand firmly and the pair smiled at one another sadly. And then she seemed to remember something. Evangeline reached into a small pouch by her side and pulled out a small canteen and a frayed scrap of parchment. She placed both in Cassandra's hands. "I'm not certain how long the Commander hasn't been a Templar, but I'm well aware that it isn't an easy road. I don't have much time to explain, but this...stuff, it helps ease the pain. There's a recipe for it written on that piece of paper. He'll have to take it regularly though. Tastes absolutely awful. If he refuses it, cut off his air from his nostrils and force-feed it to him. Tell him he'll thank you later."

"Perhaps he will be able to thank you himself." said Cassandra.

Evangeline shrugged – but the gesture fell short. And with that, the Qunari, the Warden, Adric, three Inquisition soldiers and herself, stepped out into the night and shut the Chantry doors behind them.

* * *

><p>A single Red Templar was formidable enough on his own. Cutting through this many as they poured over the walls was getting to be exhausting. But as she fought alongside her companions, she watched as – even her slightly drunk Adric – moved with a brutal grace and she used their resolve to fuel her own. Evangeline stumbled down a few times, but someone was always there to pull her to her feet. In the midst of the heat and furor, she realized that she hadn't taken much time to get to know the Qunari or the Warden.<p>

"Beers on the house if we make it out alive!" she shouted as she drew her sword across the mid-section of her adversary.

"I've got one better!" replied the Bull. "We get your Ambassador to fork out some coin for a shipment of Qunari ale and we have a drink-off! What do you say to that, eh, you thunderstorm of a Warden?"

Blackwall snorted and plunged his blade into his opponent.

A Red Templar horror swept up Evangeline's left. The Bull saw it coming before she did, and thrust himself in between the attack. She shook her head and helped him finish off the monstrosity.

_Watch that left flank_.

These people she was probably going to die with deserved no less than her very best.

_Make them work for it_, came Cassandra's voice in her head.

Steel clashed against steel and flesh and bone. She didn't quite know how long it had taken them, but as a chill wind blew against exposed, sweating skin, she could see the last trebuchet in the distance.

_There!_

The Iron Bull took the lead and removed three Templars from their road. Blackwall followed suit. But the men fell to the ground, simply stunned and not injured. Evangeline, Adric and the Inquisition's soldiers quickly set to work on finishing off the dazed Templars. As her blade worked its way into their flesh, she could discern a sound dissimilar to the crunching and snapping of bone. It was almost a crackle, like the crushing of stone and minerals. She recognized a crystalline structure permeating their flesh. She'd seen its like before. In Alexius' future.

_Not this one_, she thought determinedly. _It doesn't belong here_.

"I'll man the trebuchet," shouted Adric, "you three keep them off me!"

Within an age of what was in actuality about fifteen minutes, numerous Red Templars, their evolved and strengthened counterparts, lay scattered and prostrate on the ground.

Evangeline stared in awe at their handiwork. Had they done it?

_Okay, okay. No time. Think. The Inquisition needs warriors like Bull, like the Warden_. She hadn't thought any of them would make it this far. And as for Adric, she'd be damned if she let the idiot die with her. Not now that he'd just stumbled across the opportunity for a new beginning.

"Get going towards the hill," she said. Her voice cracked a little.

"That was not the plan," said Blackwall.

"It is now. And it's an order. Or do you not take orders anymore?" she spun and looked at him darkly. "What about you, Bull?"

"There's something up ahead!" cried a soldier. He pointed to a thin yet impossibly tall figure that was beginning to materialize from the dark depths.

The Qunari glanced at the Warden. The pair gestured for the remaining soldiers and started walking away slowly and reluctantly.

"Well, you're certainly not _my_ Herald!" yelled Adric as she ran to her side. "I don't take orders from you."

The figure was fast approaching them. Evangeline deliberately dropped her sword to the snow. Adric instinctively bent down to retrieve it for her.

"I'm sorry for this, old boy," she said as she shoved her elbow sharply onto the base of his neck. Her friend collapsed to the ground. She beckoned for the Bull to carry him to safety. "Tell him he slipped and hit his head on a rock. He won't believe you at first and he's going to go into a rage. Give him a wide berth. He'll cool down in time."

The Qunari nodded. "I'm sorry we never got the opportunity to share a drink, Herald."

"Okay. _Go_. Just go. Run and don't look back."

* * *

><p>The creature, for that was what he was, stalked towards her with an almost cool gait. It wore a set of pauldrons across its shoulders that seemed to be fused to its person. Its ribs and red, crystalline fractures tore through flesh. Was it wounded? Or had he always been so? Part of his face had been eaten away – as if exposed to an acidic concoction. The gum line had receded; his...its teeth protruded at fearsome, jagged angles.<p>

_Now those are mandibles of death_.

The shriek of a dragon shattered the unearthly silence that had descended.

_Okay. So mandibles of death second only to that __**thing**__ in the air_.

"So you are the great pretender," called the deep, resonating voice as it closed in on her. "If only your followers knew the truth."

_If only I knew the truth_, wondered a trembling Evangeline. She glanced at the tree line and fervently hoped that he hadn't noticed her doing so. She saw nothing. No signal. Not yet. But Evangeline realized that in addition to facing Mister tall, dark and not-so-handsome, she was nowhere near the trebuchet where she needed to be. Even had the signal been sent, the trebuchet, the powerful monstrosity and herself were at triangular pinpoints to one another.

_Why don't you ever come up with a goddamn plan?_

_Who'd have ever thought up a plan to contest __**this**__, you imbecile? Not even Varric on his best day!_

_Improvise!_

"Fuck it – let's do it live," she said quite unaware that she was talking out loud.

"What?" said Corypheus as he stopped advancing.

_Ha!_ She'd made the beast pause. _Come on. Let's banter like we've never bantered before_. Evangeline held up her left hand. "So what's this pretty little gem, then? You mean Andraste didn't give it to me?" She endeavored to look shocked. She was certain that her exterior appeared quite contradictory to her intentions.

Corypheus let out a short, bitter laugh. "For Andraste to have given you the Anchor, the Maker would have had to be seated on his throne."

"...and he's not...?"

"I have walked the now unhallowed floors of the Golden City. And it was bare. Your Maker has abandoned you long ago. He has not nor ever will return to you."

_Come on, Cass. Light that bloody flare_. She moved a step to the right. A step closer to the trebuchet. She was still too far away. "So why the need to rip a hole in the sky when you've already made sure that there's no one home?" She sheathed her blade. There'd be no fighting his Eminence and living to tell the tale. At least not through swordplay.

Corypheus mirrored her movement. "Do you yet not know who I am? Recollect your Chantry laments. _You have brought sin to heaven and doom upon all the world_. How could the _Herald of Andraste_ have forgotten this very verse? You must be an infant among children."

_You have no idea_. And then, _wait...he was a Tevinter? One of __**the**__ Tevinter? Hoo boy_.

His Archdemon flapped above them; whipping the air about their heads. "Behold the Elder One – the will that is Corypheus! If the Maker saw fit to abandon us when we merely endeavored to seek answers, he is no longer worthy of the title. The world needs new gods. It needs structure and an iron fist to hammer it into subjugation before it can be rebuilt."

"Oh, so you have friends," spoke a rapidly blanching Evangeline. "Are they like you or are they...well, you know, normal people?" And then, on further consideration, "You must know that I use the...uh...term _normal_ very loosely here. With all due respect. Please and thank you."

Corypheus remained silent for a spell, a little at a loss at what to say. His face contorted into rage. "Enough! I know not whether I should be insulted that my plans were undone by a half-wit or be grateful that you don't possess the sense to retreat!"

He stepped forward and thrust a hand out in her direction. In his palm, he held a black sphere which pulsated with sparks of flickering light. The gesture caused her Mark to burn an agonizing, intense green that brought her to her knees. It wrenched her across the snow. Farther from that damn trebuchet. She came to a stop at his feet. He let out a howl of fury.

_Oh, what now?_

The Mark remained plastered to her hand.

"What do you need it for?" Evangeline cried out hoarsely.

He struck her full force across the face. She tumbled backwards, but the action had allowed her to see a blessed streak of amber shoot up and into the night sky over the tree line.

_Cass, you beauty, you_.

She staggered to her feet and positioned herself in the line of the trebuchet. Not too close, but not too far either. So he was angry? Then let's make him angrier.

"Your plans got unraveled by a dullard!" she shouted as an errant trickle slid down the side of her face. She brushed it away with her palm. She jumped up and hooted at him. "You got _jackassed_ by the biggest jackass of them all! What're you going to do about it, big boy? Huh?" She splayed her hands wide at her sides. "Bring all you got and come at me!"

The dragon rapidly descended behind Corypheus.

_Okay. Well, that's just not...__**fair**_.

Before she knew it, the Ancient being flung another arm in her direction and the force hurled her in the path of the trebuchet. She heard wood creak and splinter with the impact, but felt little pain as she operated on pure adrenaline.

_Right where I wanted to be, thank you very much_. She leapt to one side and kicked the trebuchet into gear with the sole of her boot. As the metal chain unwound noisily and gear chugged against gear, Evangeline let her shoulders loose in relief. The three of them – Ancient Tevinter Magister plus Archdemon plus girl – watched as the projectile sailed through the air and struck the mountainside.

The dragon screeched again, and Evangeline covered her ears and jumped off the large apparatus. She took off in the opposite direction like a bat out of hell.

* * *

><p><em>One day I shall come back. Yes. I shall come back. Until then there must be no regrets. No tears. No Anxieties. Just go forward in all your beliefs and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine<em>.

She awoke from a dream about a madman in a blue box and to a bitter cold. She struggled to get up. Breathing in was alright. It was exhaling that was killing her. An acute pain shot upwards through her torso and across her chest. There was very little blood on her garments. A good sign, no? She attempted to straighten up, but her body was having none of it. The spasms doubled.

"_Mother pus bucket_," she gagged and steadied herself against an icy wall. "Well, old girl. We're alive. Would be a terrible shame to give up now, don't you think?" She resumed a bent, shuffling gait.

Clutching her side, she staggered through the chill interior. She'd somehow slipped through to a cavern below. How, she didn't quite know. Evangeline navigated its labyrinth by tracing the sound of a howling wind. As its wails intensified, she ran into two blasted wraiths in a widened chamber. She hadn't the spirit to fight them, so she held up her left hand and cowered. A blast of ethereal light shot out from her palm and reduced the entities to ash.

She stared at her Mark in bewilderment for a few seconds and then shrugged. On the scale of twisted revelations for the night, while undoubtedly useful, this bordered on tedium.

Evangeline stepped through the threshold of the cavern and right into a winter storm.

Through coils of swirling winds, she saw the faint glow of dawn to her left. Haven lay in the East. Cassandra, her Cullen and the others had fled in the opposite direction. As she kept dawn's light as her compass, she pressed forward. Along the way, she'd come across abandoned campfires – the embers a bleak grey and too cold to be recent. She did, however, find a frozen carrot in the snow in addition to an end of stale bread. The carrot was rock-solid, so she sucked on it a while as she nibbled at the corners of the bread. The food slid down her gullet in miniscule fragments, but it provided her warmth that detracted from the sharp pain in her torso.

For about two hours, she plodded through the snow and her lids began to close. Each time they did so, she slapped herself hard.

_Not the time for a nap_.

_Okay. But then how the hell do you expect me to stay awake?_

"Limericks!" she shouted to the biting gale. "Come hither, my dear Elena and sing with me! Let's start off with some mild ones and work our way up the path to sanguine debauchery." Although the wind carried away a portion of her voice, it was reassuring to hear it – even if the sound emanated from her own lips.

For about thirty minutes, she held an imaginary contest with her Elena. She paused as her legs began to weigh her down heavier than before. Her left knee buckled, followed soon by her right. She looked groggily down at them. "Now, now, gentlemen. We have a ways to go." She endeavored to pull herself up by stretching her back, but her muscles ached in response and her stomach and chest throbbed angrily at her. "Is this any way to treat a girl?"

Evangeline spat out some snow that wormed its way into her mouth. Kneeling down in the white blanket of cold, she looked up at the sky with her arms limp at her side. "Best prepare yourself for some serious depravity!" She shouted with all her might. "Now there's one about this chap's manly bits, but I can't remember the entire thing. But Titian! I remember Titian and his paint!"

She cleared her throat and sang in her clearest voice yet. "While Titian was mixing rose madder, his model reclined on a ladder. Her position, to Titian, suggested coition. So he ran up the ladder and had 'er!" Evangeline laughed quite maniacally at the wind. "What's that, you say? Again? Who am I to refuse?"

She started to repeat the verse when something seized her person with a ferocity that nearly made her heart stop. _Wolves_. She'd escaped an Ancient Tevinter Magister not to mention an Archdemon only to be eaten alive by a pack of dogs.

But it was a pair of arms that enveloped her tightly. "I've been following your voice for the past twenty minutes," came the sweetest of all sounds by her ear. "You and your stupid limericks might just have saved your life. Come on." He picked and carried her up from the snow and she buried her face in his neck. "Now don't you go to sleep on me, Evie."

"But your feathers are so soft," she mumbled. "And is it over? Or are we both dead? Are Adric, Bull and Blackwall...?"

"You're alive. And I'm alive. As are they too. That's all that matters for the moment. But you can't sleep yet."

"I'm tired."

Cullen kissed her cold forehead. "I know. But think of your limericks. The dirty ones."

"I've told enough for a lifetime I think..." her voice trailed off.

Cullen plumbed the depths for ideas. "Well, why don't you replace the man's name with mine and the girl's with yours?"

Evangeline's eyes widened. That got her attention. "_What?_"

"You heard me the first time," he smiled as he carried her across the snow-covered hill.

"It...won't even rhyme,"

"It doesn't have to. In the end, isn't it the thought that counts?"

* * *

><p><strong>Two Days Later<strong>

Evangeline lay nestled deep in warm furs, and she woke to the smell of bad breath. She was well aware of its origins, and she pushed the snuffling snout away from her person. "Oh, Bunty, damn you and your deplorable halitosis. You make me want to retch."

The dog whined as a voice laughed from the other side of the tent.

She propped herself up in bed, and gestured furiously as she gagged – struggling to keep the surge down. "I'm quite serious."

Cullen paled and quickly brought a wooden can to the side of the bed. She promptly emptied the meager contents of her stomach into the bucket, leaned back and then groaned. She gesticulated at her body's handiwork. "Make sure Bunty doesn't get at it. He's got the vilest of tastes."

Cullen wiped her mouth with a clean rag and then led the dog out of the tent. He returned and sat beside her on the cot.

In the dim lamplight, he looked just as he had when they'd met for the first time back in Ostwick.

"I can't stay long – I've got to go speak with the others. Solas has something he wishes to bring to our attention, and we need to figure out where we should go from here. But I'll be back later tonight." he said.

"Is that such a swell idea – you slipping into this tent at night? You know. Chin-wagging and all that."

He laughed as he stroked her hair. "There's always someone in this tent at night, Evie. I've been here for the most part, but so has Adric. And Mother Giselle too. I don't think anyone finds it too strange." He paused before continuing. "And I suppose that eventually, people are going to find out about us one way or another."

"And...that doesn't bother you?" she asked tentatively. _He_ was the one who denounced idle gossip.

Cullen gave her his lopsided smirk. "Not as much as I would have imagined. I mean, a little chatter has already started, if you must know. But given the circumstances, that's the farthest thing from everyone's minds. We've got bigger problems right now."

"Like where to go next?"

He shouldn't have brought it up. Not yet at least. He rose from the bed. "Look, just rest. I'll be back in a while."

"I...okay. Will you stay the night? And do you still love me after what I pulled?"

"Yes and _always_." he said, as he parted the flap of the tent and walked out.


	21. Flowery Reprieve

Author's note:

Thanks again to all you guys, especially Tokugawa Blitzer (man, I LOVE our chats), for taking the time to read and review.

Definitely a lighter and shorter chapter here. And more Varric!

So my latest crush is on Gillian Anderson, and I saw this fabulous quote from her in season 2 of The Fall (it's a Brit cop miniseries. It's decent for the most part, but she's the broody star that carries the show):

[Jim Burns: Why are women so much more emotionally and spiritually stronger than men?

Stella Gibson: Because the basic human form is female. Maleness is a kind of...birth defect.] - This. This is gold.

P.S. I can't figure out a way to have the doc manager import the strikethroughs that we can use in Word. Anyone know how to do this?

* * *

><p><strong>Flowery Reprieve<strong>

_(Carlyle/__Clarence/__Carlton)__ Calhoun's preferred station was beside her bed as she recovered her strength. When he wasn't attending impromptu meetings with his equally accomplished colleagues, or feeding and assessing strategic information to his troops, he would quietly slip away into (__Eglantine/Elise)__ Esmeralda's tent. Once inside, he would hastily snuffed out the oil lamp and wrapped himself within her silken embrace. The pair would sink deep into the ardent passions of one another and give themselves utterly to the night (__**Note**__: expansive elaboration found on page sixty-nine)_.

_For the moment, the affair was locked behind tight lips. Both were seasoned warriors, but whilst one commanded a small legion, the other held the hopes and dreams of the masses_. _It was probable that some would see the liaison as frivolous, irresponsible even, but then what did this such critics know of the nature of love?_

_Calhoun, with his golden halo-like nimbus of hair and Esmeralda, with her midnight, raven locks, could not have been more different – both in appearance and personality. He was ice to her fire, calm to her storm. They had a history together, possibly as tumultuous as their present. They were inexorably drawn together – as a key had been designed to fit a distinct lock. Despite any past misgivings, it was inevitable that neither could exist without the other_.

_If only affairs of the heart were as simple for Aldous and (__Dumbledore?)__ Dominic_. _After Aldous' safe return from an arduous battle, Dominic was quick to inquire after his well-being personally. Aldous spurned his attentions coolly. But Dominic, whose underlying qualities were rather patient, gave his would-be lover a wide-berth. These were trying times after all_. _(__**Note:**__ Bland. Mostly conjecture and filler. Need to expand.)_

_Given their group's most recent loss of a sanctuary that they'd called home, they found themselves adapting to a nomadic lifestyle. Displaced and lost in more ways than one, it was becoming evident that their cause was fracturing at its core. But the dawn always followed the night, and their silver lining came in the guise of their companion, Sonata, the striking Elven mage. Formally part of Dalish clan, her sapphire eyes and thick coils of auburn (or perhaps starlight) hair framed her delicate features. She was an expert on the realm of dreams and had served as an advisor of sorts to the group's leaders. In her rich, luxurious tone, she had informed them that a more fortifiable, and larger, domicile awaited them in stretch of the Fireback Mountains. The Fortress once belonged to the Dalish, and had changed hands frequently throughout the centuries. It was now forgotten and abandoned. And perhaps it was time that they claim it for their own_. _(__**Note:**__ Too flowery? Last editor advised concision and brevity. Rephrase.)_

_The future was looking up, and even so, Aldous maintained a safe distance from potential happiness with Dominic. (__**Note**__: A is curiously mum on the matter. Might have lost a lover to another or something worse. Must pump E for more information while intoxicated.)_

_Amidst it all, and quite oblivious to the romantic entanglements that surrounded her, lay Lady Seraphina. Formerly a..._

"What're you writing?" called a scratchy voice from the cot.

Varric looked up from reams of vellum, and wiped the end of his quill on the rim of the ink pot. He then blotted any excess smudges on a scrap of stained cloth. "Oh, you know. My last will and testament."

Evangeline propped herself up on her elbows and eyed the robust stack of parchments questionably. "I didn't know you were the sole heir to numerous estates."

Varric exhaled and swerved off topic. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better. It hardly hurts when I breathe out anymore." She glanced at a pitcher seated on a barrel by her bed and grimaced. "Mother Giselle's healer wants me to imbibe some vile concoction though. I can't keep much of anything down because of it."

Varric conceded a conciliatory smile. "If there were tavern a nearby, I'd buy you several rounds. Everything tastes wretched coming back up, but at least this way it'd be more pleasant going down." He rose from the rickety chair, sniffed the empty pitcher and wrinkled his nose in disdain. "The Chantry has a knack for making anything and everything taste bad – I'll give them that."

Evangeline pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded in the direction outside the tent. "How're things on the other side? Cul – the _Commander_ says that we may finally have someplace to go. Do we have Solas to thank for that?"

Varric grinned as she strived to downplay her relationship with Cullen. For the moment, only a few were privy to this knowledge. That, paired with their current vagrancy, pushed all thoughts of tongue-wagging onto a back-burner. But once they'd found a place to settle down in security, people would begin to court idle fancies once more. He was sure of it.

"Yes we do," he said finally, "although – according to Leliana and our illustrious Seeker – we still have a long road ahead. Your survival has bolstered moral, however. If people weren't certain you were the Herald before, they're sure of it now."

She had unconsciously adopted Cullen's curmudgeonly glower as her own. "And here I thought sliding down the gullet of an Archdemon was bad."

He gave her an inconsequential wave of the hand. "Stop being so fatalistic, kid. There are worse things than being a beacon of hope to the multitudes." He cocked his head to one side, "Of course, there are better things as well, but let's be glass-half-full with this one. You've got Josephine to politick and keep up appearances. Cassandra to bully your enemies into submission and your friends to round up for few pints at the end of the day. You're not walking a lonely road. And as for your Commander, he may have to tack on bed-warming to his list of duties."

Evangeline promptly flushed a deep pink. "What? We're not...he isn't my..._Andraste's knicker-weasels_ – does the whole world know?"

He patted her gently on the back. "Relax. Just a few of us. And it's not like we're going to condense your love affair into a pulp novel and sell it en masse."

Evangeline lowered her brows in mild disbelief. Her gaze flicked to the reams of paper on the narrow desk and then back on the dwarf. Was he being sarcastic or...?

"Anyway, I came to see if you wanted to get out from under this stuffy tarp and take a walk outside. You know, breathe in the mountain air and all that crap. It'd do you some good. Would bring some colour into your cheeks. But I have to say that talking about your beau seems to have the same effect."

She flung daggers at him with her eyes. "You may be my favourite author, Tethras, but I do have limits to my tolerance."

Varric let out a loud laugh. "Now you're starting to sound just like our Seeker!"

* * *

><p>As the evening wore on, Cullen wandered into Evangeline's tent feeling considerably lighter and more confident about their prospects. Granted, they still had to contend with a High Priest who once served Old Gods like Dumat and who wished to re-forge the world anew, but with a potential fortress at their disposal, they were a sight better than they had been only a day ago.<p>

The lamp beside her bed had whiffed out. He struck a match and relit it. He glanced around her temporary abode but she was nowhere to be seen. A stack of papers, weighted down by a metal tin lay on a table near the tent's entrance. He didn't know that she maintained a journal. Or wrote, for that matter. With furrowed brows, he approached the reams of vellum.

_Just a cursory glance_, he promised himself. _One peek and he would back off_.

Head angled to one side and oil lamp in one hand, he studied the flowing, longhand script that graced the pages. This was definitely _not_ her handwriting.

Before he knew it, his eyes had wandered well past the first paragraph.

_Calhoun? Esmeralda? And what the blasted hell was on page sixty-nine? _These were the feeblest noms de guerre he'd seen in his lifetime. _Tethras_. He had to behind this. Cullen scuttled towards the flap of the tent and thrust his head out. All the people in sight were beginning nightly preparations, and Evangeline was not among them. He ducked back in.

He quickly grabbed the entire stack of papers, and sat on the edge of the cot. He flipped through each numbered page until he reached what he was looking for.

He took in the smutty language with widening eyes. _Oh Maker_. What Calhoun was doing with Esmeralda – he didn't even know that one could do that! And what she did to him – was that even possible? So many..._variations_. And this was just a prelude to the actual deed. Andraste give him strength. He read on. After five minutes and six pages later, a very pale Cullen clutched the corners of the vellum with sweaty hands.

How in the world was he supposed to sleep next to her tonight after..._this_?

He needed a repugnant distraction, so he summoned to mind the image of maggots and flies. His upper lip curled in distaste. Yes, that's what he would do should Varric's words attempt to seize control.

Or perhaps he should keep reading?

The tone of voices outside the tent presented him with the answer he needed.

He bounded up hastily and quickly tackled the business of returning the papers to their original position before he'd launched his eyes upon them.

But it was the Seeker who wandered towards him. She appraised his presence with less suspicion and more amusement these days. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"Oh, Commander. I didn't expect to find you here." But the Seeker's eyes twinkled back at him.

"Uh...just checking in. That's all."

She rolled her brown eyes heavenwards. "I have don't have the patience to pretend. Look, I came to give Evangeline this," she handed him a mid-sized canteen of liquid and a crumpled, fraction of parchment. "But since you're here, _checking in and all_, it might as well be you. Before she faced Corypheus, she wanted me to give you this. She said she knew about the lyrium-withdrawal and that this...stuff helped her get through it. I know you've personally asked me to keep a wary eye on your _condition_, but now that...you know –"

"No, I don't know!" said Cullen abruptly, a mite louder than he'd intended.

"Oh would you stop being so bashful!" reproached Cassandra, as she strived to pin him in place with her gaze. "You're like a virgin maiden, the way you bat your eyes at our Herald. For those who know you, it really isn't that hard to see. So give us some credit and cease these ridiculous demonstrations."

"I am _not_ a...a maiden!"

The Seeker snarled at him. "_Whatever_. It doesn't seem fitting that I remain the only person to see you through your trials. You'll have to rely on her first, and me second." She moved towards the cramped desk and placed the flask directly adjacent to Varric's documents.

"What's this?" she queried softly as she peered at the rough work.

"Nothing!" said Cullen as he strived to place himself bodily between the parchments and the Seeker.

She brushed him aside roughly. "This isn't Evangeline's handwriting." And following a few moments, "_Silken embrace_...? This is Varric, isn't it. That depraved little worm." Yet she kept reading. After she'd finished the first page, she flipped it over and continued to read.

"Cassandra, we really shouldn't..." protested Cullen meekly.

"Why not? I assume that you've already read whatever's on page sixty-nine."

That shut him up good.

To his surprise, she let out a delighted chuckle. "_He made Solas a woman!_" She slapped her thigh and continued to laugh heartily. "That devil. Now where am I in this tawdry mess? No doubt he would paint me as the archdemon or somesuch."

The wind carried the sounds of closing chatter in their direction. Both the Seeker and the Commander leapt back.

Evangeline and Varric traipsed in. She was still endeavoring to mask a slight limp that arose from a fractured rib, but for the most part, she was almost back to normal. Varric gave the Commander an insightful half-grin and winked at Cassandra.

She responded with the briefest hint of a smile. But her left hand rested lightly against his writings, and it took the dwarf a solid moment to recognize the diabolical undercurrents beneath her amusement.

His face promptly grew solemn and alarmed. He stepped towards his work and tucked the parchments under his arm. He wordlessly marched out the tent.

Cassandra regarded Cullen and the pair relinquished mild chuckles.

"What's going on?" asked Evangeline.

"Perhaps the next time you happen across our resident author, you should ask him what preoccupies his busy evenings," suggested Cassandra as she placed an arm on the girl's shoulder and bid her goodnight.

Evangeline pivoted in perplexity towards Cullen. "What the _hell_ is she on about?" And then, she glanced at the now-empty desk, and a flash of comprehension crossed her eyes. She smiled equally devilishly to herself. "_Last will and testament_ – my foot. Did you know that yesterday – in my fevered delirium – he was asking me what I'd said to Corypheus? _Give me your exact words_, is what he'd asked until the healer shoved him out. I remember though. The brilliant little bastard."

_He does have his moments_, thought Cullen to himself as the readings on page sixty-nine flooded into mind.

_Maggots and flies!_

Cullen massaged his temples.

"Are you alright?" said Evangeline in concern as she limped towards him.

"Uh...yes."

She touched his temple briefly with her hand. His temperature seemed normal. More than a little tired, she sat down on the bed with her legs crossed. "Look, Cullen. I don't really know exactly _when_ you left the Templars, but Adric and I know how bad it can get. There was something that I asked Cassandra to give –"

"I...know," he said and picked up the canteen that the Seeker had left for him. "She told me." He held it up and examined it.

"Asogen gave it to me a long time ago. It's not a miracle cure-all. It will probably take frequent consumption for at least a year before you can experience its full effects. But I'll tell you, there were days when neither of us could make it out of bed. A few sips and the intensity lessens somewhat." She reached out and held his hand, pulling him down beside her. "We call it our _Go Juice_. Because when we stop, it makes us go. Just a little joke."

"_Go juice_," repeated Cullen softly. And then, slightly taken aback, "It's a _laxative?_"

She laughed affectionately at him. "I...never saw it that way. But now that you mention it...and er...no. It's not going to make you _go_. Not in that sense at any rate. But I wanted to tell you that, if ever you feel that you can't handle the pain anymore...you can always come to me. I know I can be abrasive and I'm not the best person to seek solace in, but I care...I love you. And I get, well, protective."

He gave her a sideways glance and slipped his arm around her. "I know."

She craned her neck and brushed her lips against his earlobe. He found himself stiffening while tightening his arm around her at the same time. Reacting purely on impulse, his breath hitched, he turned his head and pushed his mouth up against hers. The fact that she no longer pulled away and yielded to him made his heart beat faster. With lidded eyes, he allowed for his hands to move upwards from her back and into her hair. All this – the smell and the taste of her – brought back the memories of the feel of her skin against his chest...

...and Varric's blasted prose.

"_Oh, Maker_," he moaned, eyes still closed.

"What's wrong?"

He pulled away, his head in his hands. "You asked me to promise to take it slow."

"Is...there something wrong with snogging...? You've never let it stop you before." she ventured gently.

"It's not _that_."

"What is it, then?"

He shook his head and made as if to stand up. "Maybe I need some fresh air."

Evangeline fiercely yanked him back down. "_Talk to me_."

"_Page sixty-nine_," he muttered with his palm against his forehead. "I read page sixty-nine through to page seventy-five."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Smut – alright? _Smut, smut, smut!_ I read the most lewd drivel I've read in my entirely life!"

Evangeline raised a pair of reverently amused hands to her mouth. "_Maferath's balls_. Who was it? Did he write about Adric and Dorian? It was them, wasn't it?"

"_Us_, Evie. It was _us_." He swallowed.

All trace of yearning curiousity vanished from her visage. She looked away, as if contemplating something. And then, with a lopsided, cheeky smile, she sidled closer to him and placed her chin on his shoulder. "Was it good? I mean, were _we_ any good?"

Cullen pushed her away playfully and laughed despite himself.

She went on. "Well? Do you remember what he wrote? I need to know everything. Verbatim."

He coloured. "I will most certainly _not_ repeat it."

She gave him her most impish smile. "I'll make you. Oh, maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon. You'll tell me _everything_." She reached out and tweaked his nose fondly. "So. Does this mean you'll be giving me a wide berth from now on?"

Cullen gently flicked her ear. "No...not unless you want me to. And perhaps this isn't exactly the time or place for..._you know_."

Evangeline flopped down on the bed. "Well, good. Because I, for one, am exhausted."

"Too exhausted to even remove your boots, it seems," he mumbled as he began to unlace her footwear.

He placed them neatly beside her bed and took off his armor. After he'd changed into his nightclothes, she was already asleep and snoring softly. He lightly moved her over so that he could fit next to her. Evangeline rolled onto her side and he tenderly traced the outline of her body from thigh to jawline. A languid smile crept across his face. He found himself kissing the nape of her neck and breathing her in.

He opened his eyes and pulled back, wrapping an arm around her instead.

Andraste preserve him, this wasn't going to be easy.


	22. The Rising Tide

Author's note:

An update at last. I wonder if anyone's still following this story after my hiatus. It is one I truly intend to finish, as I'm really enjoying myself in writing it. I apologize for the delay – I went on vacation for ten days and – in my idiocy – managed to strand myself overseas. It was a bit of nightmare really, but it's all sorted and I can return to my cozy room and bed, and bask in the throes of introversion once more.

Many thanks to the three new reviewers: **Minizilla** (I will most definitely check out those French artists you recommended), **SinistrousDelerious**, **DarklingGl0ry** and last but not definitely least – **Tokugawa Blitzer**, who's stuck with this fic almost from the very beginning. As another author's mentioned on this site, reviews are the only form of payment we receive from our readers, so when you take the time to type one out, we're positively ecstatic.

So thanks again for continuing to put up with my work and even more thanks for the reviews!

* * *

><p><strong>The Rising Tide<br>**

_Dear Lady Trevelyan,_

_My circumstances are such that I lack the time for social decorum and proper introductions, so I shall cut straight to the matter._

_I'm uncertain as to whether you will remember me, but I hope that the name Alec Stroud brings back memories of happier days. I'm well aware that you weren't too keen on the interests I took in your youngest sister, but I truly did love her at the time and perhaps that fact will allow you to look more favourably on my predicament._

_In the likelihood that Evangeline never told you which path separated us, let me shine some light on that here. I joined the Grey Wardens during my stay in Redcliffe. Evangeline had been sent to the Circle Tower, and I had to return to menial labour in order to make ends meet for myself. The jobs weren't unpleasant, but I must confess that I was somewhat envious of Evangeline's loyalty to the Templars. She had purpose whereas I did not. I saw what two Wardens had accomplished in defeating a demon horde that stemmed from Arl Eamon's castle. Such a small number and yet the equivalent of a modest regiment. If I could make a fourth of a difference that they had made, perhaps my actions could count for something as well._

_I was never surer of this decision. It was one that – I believe – forged me into the man I've become today. My parents had repeatedly stressed that I was too impetuous, too foolhardy and insatiable in my youth. I've reached a stage in my life where I can finally admit that they were correct. I will never get the chance to tell them so as their lives were taken from them. I hope you'll forgive me for not elaborating on this matter as, despite it having been two years to the day, it remains too raw and painful to speak of._

_I digress. I have obligations now. Responsibilities to a worthy order and it is because of the Grey Wardens that I plead for your help. There are rumours that our Evangeline and the woman many address as the Herald of Andraste are one and the same. While this seems unlikely, I humbly request confirmation from one of the closest people to her. No doubt you will wish to know why, but in the interests of secrecy and safety, such revelations must be made judiciously._

_I will tell you, however, that my life, the lives of the Grey Wardens and eventually those within Thedas itself could be in jeopardy if my request is denied. I don't wish to burden you with guilt and if my inquiry comes across as manipulative, that is certainly not my intent. If my supposition proves to be true and she is indeed the Herald, her influence could very well help restore our rapidly disintegrating brother- and sisterhood. If this is done, we would gladly pledge our allegiance to her cause. And it is no small declaration to claim that the Wardens would fight at her side. I urge you to seriously consider my appeals for help._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Alec Stroud_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Alec,<em>

_I must admit that upon reading your letter, I was overcome by a great many reservations. _

_The first was brought about by your past treatment of my sister. In addition to serving as a distraction while she committed herself to her future, you had promised to remain by her side. I found the latter slightly redeeming, but upon your abandonment of her, I was greatly displeased. Evangeline claimed that your parting was necessary as she too saw your time together as nearing an end, but, needless to say, I do not look favourably on those who cannot keep their word. Especially to those who I care so deeply about._

_Secondly, your clandestine manner of courting her was disrespectful. True, this was also her decision but she was only responsible for her half of it. In not revealing your intentions to her family indicates that you thought little of us. In the beginning I was slightly empathetic to your situation, but as your relationship wore on, a word about your transpiring affair would have been the polite thing to do._

_I hope you'll forgive me, but in the past, there were a large number of things I wished to convey had your convenient absence not prevented me from doing so. Your letter provided me with the late opportunity to follow through, and has allowed me to, at the very least, express some of what I'd felt before. I suppose that there are further misgivings that I could expound upon but I fear that I may come across as petty._

_My selfish opinions aside, I feel compelled to tell you the truth as I have come to believe that your claims are valid. And yes, my Evangeline is – to our astonishing surprise – the Herald. I must stress that while she has reluctantly accepted the title, she is, by no means, the leader of the Inquisition and is not solely responsible for its decisions. I am hesitant to clarify specific details of how this arose, however. You will have to rely on the half-truths of rumours for the time being. I also cannot divulge her location as I myself am not aware. _

_Whether you wish to capitalize on this fact for personal or honourable reasons remains to be seen, but if you do need to send word to her, I may be able to pass on your message to her through certain channels._

_Best,_

_Elena MacGowan_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Elena,<em>

_Your response has eased some of the troubles on my mind. No doubt that I am well-deserving of your reprimands and confess to being fully culpable. Perhaps if fortune is kind to Evangeline and myself, our paths may cross again and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make amends._

_We will have to set aside personal affairs for the moment, however. Since my last letter, I have had to go into hiding. My circle of trustworthy friends is rapidly closing in on me as the days wear on. I have been betrayed twice by people I'd once called brothers. While I cannot divulge everything in this letter, allow me to emphasize that the Order is not what it used to be. But this is not entirely their fault. They are being deceived and waylaid by an intricate web of lies. Once this revelation sees daylight, I fear that the world will turn on those they once called heroes. If this should come to pass, it would destroy our hard-won honour quite completely. And should, Maker forbid, another Blight arise, there will be only a handful of us remaining across Thedas to stop it._

_I beg you to pass on what I've shared with you onto Evangeline and the Inquisition. I also urge discretion and implore you to only employ people you trust to do so. Should this letter fall into the wrong hands, your life and that of your family could be in danger. Perhaps it's best that you burn this on completion of reading it._

_Should Evangeline require further persuasion to heed my warnings, simply tell her that I have become compelled to travel to the Deep Roads. I'll continue to resist these urges, however, as they are unnatural. Be certain that you use these precise words._

_Yours,_

_Alec_

_P.S. Were you wed in the past several years? I couldn't help but notice the absence of your family name and the title that came with it. I wish nothing but the best for you and yours. I hope that we'll be fortunate enough to meet in less desperate circumstances and reacquaint with one another properly__._

_P.P.S. Is Evangeline doing well? Being the Herald of Andraste is a title I am certain she's not pleased to assume__._

* * *

><p><em>Dear Alec,<em>

_In my first reply to you, I deliberately failed to reveal that the Inquisition is no longer in Haven. I didn't know how much was safe to tell. Certain events had demanded that they flee and I pray that the nature of their current state is transitory. I do know that she and her advisors are both safe and alive. That is the extent of my knowledge, however._

_Because of their migrant lifestyle, it may take as little as a few days or as many as several weeks for her to receive and respond to my letters. But I will stress the important nature of your plea and hope that she is able to bring the matter to her advisors' attention._

_If your life truly is in danger, perhaps there is something else we can do in the meantime to help._

_Stay safe,_

_Elena_

__P.S. Yes, I was wed several years ago. Elliot and I have also been blessed with twins – a boy and girl. The pair are four years old now; completely rambunctious and they keep me on my toes constantly. In fact, they are the reason for this hurried reply. At this very moment, I can smell the acrid scent of smoke coming from the verandah, so I must attend to it at once. But I could not imagine how my life would be without them_._

_P.P.S. Evangeline is a survivor and has accepted her new role. No doubt she must have put up a terrible fuss about her responsibilities, but she is coping with it as best as she can_.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Elena,<em>

_I apologize for the lengthy interlude between your last letter and my response. Things have taken a turn for the worse. I am being hunted relentlessly by those I'd called brothers, and I fear that our correspondence may soon be discovered. Due to this, this may very well be the last letter I write as I could never forgive myself should any harm come to your family. (Unless you hear from me again, do __**not**__ reply to this note.) In the instance that my suspicions prove true, I will find a way to get in contact with you, Evangeline or the Inquisition itself through other means. For paranoia's sake, if I choose to send an intermediary on my behalf (my list of friends is diminishing rapidly), they will ask you if the dagger from Rivain that I'd gifted Evangeline many years ago is being put to good use. Evangeline will know what I speak of._

_I cannot remain in one place for too long and must move before the sun rises today._

_Should the worst come to pass, please convey my love for Evangeline. While I was and am undeserving of her then and even now, tell her that I have always loved her and that no force on Thedas could destroy what we once shared together._

_Take care of your precious family. I pray that the Maker will keep them safe._

_Yours,_

_Alec Stroud_

* * *

><p><strong>Skyhold<strong>

If it wasn't for the nasty head cold that she had caught from the Commander, Evangeline could have appreciated the regal, imposing fortress that was Skyhold. Solas was quite rightly pleased at what his people's heritage had yielded, and began an ardent exploration of the castle and its battlements as soon as they'd entered. A majority of its interior required attention. While the foundation itself was tenaciously intact, the stonework from thereon upwards had taken a beating from the harsh high altitude weather. Certain sections of the ramparts, battlements and even ceilings had given way; succumbing to deterioration.

Josephine, accompanied by artisans and builders she had secured through her ever-expanding influence, conducted a thorough assessment of necessary repairs and set about planning such restorations. Within the short span of a few days, she had overseen the restoration of several halls and rooms. This would prove a lengthy road to recovery, but despite her ambassadorial responsibilities, Josephine was adamant in seeing it through to completion.

The Commander, in turn, swiftly took up his duties of having several guard rotations established – not simply within Skyhold itself – but across the rim of its borders as well. Together with their Spymaster, Leliana, the pair had coordinated layers of defense to protect and preserve the Inquisition and the large number of refugees that flocked under its wings. Haven was a tragedy that they could not afford to repeat. Cassandra, in the meantime, threw herself headfirst into summated reports that her colleagues had collated. Their movement had been dealt a blow, and the Seeker was gearing up to return it.

Her initial concern rested in the fact that the Inquisition had no true leader. What Adric had repeated to the Commander before Haven fell was true. To a certain extent. Leliana, Josephine, the Commander and herself were the four limbs that held their wounded entity upright, but their existence wove the picture of an organization with no face. A somewhat invisible regime that had no doubt scored their hard-won fortitude but one that was lacking in charisma. The four of them were historically learned enough to realize that thriving governments did not bolster the morale of their people by handing out statistical reports of support nor with lists of their accomplishments. The people needed to _feel_ something. They needed to be _inspired_ to soldier on.

True, they must have witnessed something hopeful and promising in the Inquisition somewhere along the line, as the masses wouldn't have streamed in had the group maintained its ragtag origins. But perhaps this was a consequence of necessity. After all, what other order could provide security, food and shelter like they had? But now they needed something more, and waves of logic repeatedly slammed and broke against cliffs of limitation as she searched for it.

It wasn't long before Cassandra found herself wandering into the tavern that Josephine had restored. As she pushed the door inwards, she marveled at their ambassador's influence and tenacity. Serving people and patrons bustled within. Maryden was seated near a wooden staircase, tuning her lute in preparation for a string of melodies that would further liven up its interior. Several loud voices called for more service, and – surrounded by the warmth inside – the chatter grew to a tolerable yet intoxicating buzz. Cassandra exhibited an approving smile and then made a beeline for the barman.

After receiving her request, the barman thrust a pewter tankard – minus its hinged lid – underneath a wooden barrel. He opened its tap with a flick of his thumb, watched in routine silence as the liquid poured in, and upon completion, shaved off the frothy excess with a clean butter knife. He pushed the drink in Cassandra's direction, and scooped the copper payment into his hand. Mug of honeyed ale before her, she pivoted, eyes skimming her environs for an empty table.

"Need some solitude or company this evening, Seeker?" emitted Varric's voice from her right. "You'll find that I can guide you in the right direction for either. Try the third floor if it's musings and beer that you want."

"And if it's the second?" she asked, as her brows lowered by default.

Varric held his palms upwards with an obvious gesture. "I'm the best you've got for tonight, I'm afraid." He nodded in the direction of a rambunctious party at the far end of the tavern. "Unless you'd like to join the Bull and his Chargers, of course. Our stalwart Warden and our Herald will soon be partaking in their festivities later today."

Cassandra's gaze lit upon the unfolding debauchery. "I...think not." And then, to her surprise, "But I don't want to drink alone either."

"Well then. Right this way." grinned Varric as he led her to a small table for two near a bay window.

She gingerly sipped her ale while staring at the green shrubbery outside.

"Rather unbelievable, isn't it?" noted Varric.

"What is?"

"Why, just a fortnight ago we were a bunch of helpless hobos. And now we have a damned fortress to call home. Ah, the twists of fate."

"These twists of fate, Dwarf, are making me nauseous." Cassandra took a larger swig of her drink.

Varric chuckled. "Oh, come now! You're the famed Seeker Pentaghast! Surely you're accustomed to some violent boat-rocking every now and again?"

"Just because I can _endure_ doesn't mean that I _enjoy_."

He issued an empathetic nod. "Is that why you came here tonight? Late-night war room discussions getting you down?"

Cassandra peered at Varric scrupulously. He was of an awfully friendly disposition. Given their history together – a history that involved capture, imprisonment followed by a somewhat harsh interrogation – his demeanor was quite the contradiction. Then again, he had been so from the get-go. She wondered what angle the little deviant was working now.

"Why are you suddenly so interested?" she asked.

His eyes sparkled back at her. "Why are you always so suspicious?"

_Perhaps your unbound manuscript has something to do with it_, pondered the Seeker, as she recollected the pages he'd written during their nomadic sojourn before Skyhold.

He went on. "Believe it or not, I'm a pretty good listener. Just ask any one of our friends. Although I'm sure you're probably quite mistrustful of me and will continue to be, I'm okay with what happened before – in Kirkwall. _Really_. You thought what you were doing was right, and who's to say that I wouldn't do the same if I was in your shoes? I buried the hatchet a long time ago, Seeker. Maybe it's time you do the same. Oh, and I solemnly swear that I'm not selling the Inquisition's secrets to Corypheus and his goons." He placed a sober hand on his heart for effect.

The Seeker couldn't help but laugh. Maybe it _was_ time that she cut him some slack. After all, the past was all water under the bridge to him. And, she reluctantly realized, it was _she_ who'd victimized _him_ on the Chantry's behalf. Not the other way around. "Oh, alright. Although I'm not even sure where I should begin."

"Well, what drove you here? It's not often that I see you mingling with us common folk." And at that, he flinched in awareness that was quickly followed by remorse. "I'm sorry. That was a little unkind. It's just that the tavern doesn't quite seem like your type of place."

"It isn't." Cassandra scratched her forehead in weariness. "But sometimes it gets loud...inside. In my mind. And I need other voices to drown it out. If that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense actually. The compunction strikes me too, except that I deal with it by writing. The process can be very cathartic."

"Oh?" said Cassandra with a raised brow. "What do you like to write about?"

Varric tipped his mug slightly in her direction. "I believe we were talking about _you_, not _my_ lurid fantasies."

She exhaled. "Very well. If you must know, I have moments where I find myself wondering which path we're supposed to take next. I know what we have to do in terms of where we're supposed to go, who we're supposed to help and how, but as a whole...who exactly are we? We have influence and a decent measure of support, but it's clearly not going to be enough to stop our enemies. Let alone Corypheus."

"Have you ever thought about continuing to do what you're doing?"

"And what's that?"

"Make it up as you go along. It's always worked for me."

"We're the _Inquisition_, Varric. We can't fly by the seat of our pants any longer. We're growing and we've got to maintain appearances. We've got to inspire the people and make them believe in us."

"You're starting to sound a lot like our ambassador. Speaking of which, isn't this her department anyway?"

Cassandra placed both elbows on the table and cupped her face in her hands. Varric found the gesture oddly endearing. "She has far too much on her plate already. We can't ask her to lead the Inquisition."

"Ah, so that's the problem, is it? You want someone to take the helm?"

"I suppose so. Now's as good a time as any."

"Well, from where I'm standing, I'm looking right at its de facto leader. You may not be so on paper, but you fit the bill." Varric guzzled down his ale and avoided making eye contact with her.

The Seeker's stern expression held before giving way to a loud chortle. She leaned back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. She was still smiling when she spoke. "Absolutely not. I'd have to attend social functions, mingle with aristocracy and politicians. Not _murder_ them. Which is how I often end up feeling after those gatherings. I would tarnish the Inquisition's name."

"I am also to understand that our Nightingale refuses as well?"

"You understand correctly," replied a morose Cassandra.

Varric beckoned for another flagon of ale to be brought to their table. "What about the Commander, then? He's been a leader before. And while what happened in Kirkwall is a debacle for the ages, he stuck to his guns and made the right choices."

"What happened in Kirkwall made him never want to assume the head of any post save for that of the military. And he has other..._problems_ that he needs to address before he can seriously consider a position of that sort."

_Oh_, pondered Varric? He'd have to buy Evangeline several rounds of liquor later this evening and work some of his charm on her to extract further details. "What about Evangeline, then?" he questioned. "I know she's just a child, but the people seem to think she's the Maker's answer to this mess."

"Mother Giselle is doing her part in spreading the word then, is she? Andraste forgive me, but I sometimes fear her exuberance on this matter. The good Mother has spoken with me on numerous occasions in an attempt to convince me otherwise, but I cannot - in good conscience - force more responsibility on the girl. She is only twenty-four, for heaven's sake!"

"Weren't you only twenty-something when you rode a dragon and saved the Divine's life?"

"Shut up, Tethras." frowned Cassandra. "You know this is different."

"I'm just saying, is all," laughed Varric. "She is a lot more capable than we give her credit for. She's loyal, devious as hell-all and incredibly protective of those she cares about. Including the people she's saved. The other day, she suggested that some lay-Sisters start readying a section of Skyhold for children orphaned by this war. You should have seen Josephine's face light up. Of course our ambassador put her to work on it at once and did some publicizing and capitalizing of her own, but you've got to admit that it was a considerate decision. It may not have been a strategic one, least not intentionally so, but it has heart."

"That's just the problem. When it comes to the bigger picture, she can't think strategically. She's fine on the field and with a blade in her hand. She might have been a little like me when at that age."

"Your point being...? Look at the woman you've become. Look at how far you've made it." challenged Varric.

"This is _different_," stressed Cassandra.

The dwarf shook his head. "It isn't really. Look, when was the last time life stood patiently on the sidelines, waiting for someone's character to ripen and then decree that they were ready for all of its trials?" He feigned a pensive expression and then looked at her dryly. "Oh, that's right – _never_."

"Don't tell me you subscribe to that _great men are only forged by war_ nonsense?"

"I do. And so do you, in fact. The only difference being that you refuse to cop to it."

A gaunt but cheerful serving girl brought them another round of drinks. She placed the flagon at the center of the table and returned to attending to the other patrons. Varric poured some ale into Cassandra's empty tankard. "You ought to give this a try. It's a little darker, but stronger in taming those rampant thoughts. Kind of like _you_, Seeker." He winked at her.

"You devil," laughed Cassandra. "_Fine_. You have a point."

"Besides," he downed a quarter of his drink in quick gulps before wiping off its excess around his mouth with the back of his hand, "it's not as if she's going to lead the Inquisition single-handedly."

"Maker forbid," muttered Cassandra as the implications of that hypothetical scenario hit.

"She'll still have you four to guide her. Granted, she'll have some growing up to do, but if we believe in her...she might just come to believe in herself as well."

Cassandra glanced out the window. Their conversation appeared to have gone by quickly. A starry night had descended onto the Frostback Mountains and the Seeker was eager to venture outside and breathe in the crisp air. But she redirected her attention to Varric instead. "I have to say that this talk has been rather...enlightening."

"More enlightening that you'd expected of me or more so than in general?" chortled Varric.

"Perhaps a bit of both." Her countenance grew serious again. "But even if _we_ approve of Evangeline becoming a leader, she would never accept the role. Becoming the Herald was difficult enough. If we inform her that we'd like her to become an Inquisitor, we're may never see her again."

"I seriously doubt that she'd just up and _leave_."

"Maybe _you_ could talk to her. You're her favourite author. She'd listen to you," demanded Cassandra in sudden desperation.

"Whoa there," Varric held up a hand in partial warning. "What about the others? Don't you have to take a _referendum_ or something?"

Cassandra polished off her drink and shut her eyes in exhaustion. "I may have neglected to tell you that this was an idea they'd come up with several days ago. But we'd only kept it between ourselves. Evangeline has no clue. I was the only one in opposition to it. I didn't think it fair to ask this of her." She opened her eyes and gazed tiredly back at Varric's own. "I _was_ her – at one point in my life - but the difference is that she's not tied to the Templars, the Seekers or any other order. She's a civilian in every respect and she doesn't owe us anything. In my circumstances, the situation, people, _everything_ demanded that I step up and bring some order to what was happening around me. I didn't ask nor want any of it. But I did it because it was my responsibility."

"No. You didn't help for _obligation's _sake." sniffed Varric impudently.

"_I'm sorry?_"

"You did it because you cared about people. Those you loved. The innocents caught in the crossfire from a war that wasn't even of their making. You did it because that's _who you are_. Trust me. I used to be good friends with the Champion – as you well know. She's a good person through and through. I know one when I see one." He gave her a weak smile. "And you'll find that Evangeline will consent for the same reasons. She might require some talking round, however."

Cassandra stretched her long arms across the table and unconsciously clasped them before her. "So you'll talk to her?"

"No, but perhaps you should go to the Commander with that request."

"Why in Andraste's name would the Commander...I..._oh_."

The writer gave her a knowing look.

The Seeker's face lit up a degree. Varric was certainly more intelligent and cunning than he made himself out to be. Not only would Cullen be their best bet in getting Evangeline to view things from their perspective, but he would easily yield to the Seeker's orders rather than any other – save for the Herald, she supposed. _Let's hope then_, she found herself wondering, _Evangeline wouldn't challenge him on this_.

Much relieved with this new direction, Cassandra invited the dwarf to take a walk with her on the battlements. He seemed pleased at the overture and accepted. After a brief stop at the Commander's study, they continued on their way. The pair relished rich conversation deep into the night.

* * *

><p>An instrumental melody wafted over heads in the tavern. Most of its inhabitants had consumed their supper, and remained within simply to chat, drink and bask in the pleasant atmosphere that many thought they'd never savour again. Maryden's harmonious voice picked up over the strums of her lute and its gentle nature provided a soothing backdrop from which the patrons could seek reprieve from.<p>

"There's something different about our Herald," remarked the Bull as he shoved several pitchers and flagons almost violently towards Evangeline in the insistence that she sample the brew. One of the containers nearly toppled over, but her quick reflexes prevented an unnecessary mess.

"She's cut her hair," said Blackwall laconically.

Evangeline used one hand to fiddle with her chin-length mane self-consciously.

The Bull stood up, leaned across the small table and peered at Evangeline in scrutiny. "So you did. Why didn't you dye it red?" He sat back down and picked up a deck of cards which he began to shuffle. For one with such large hands, the Qunari handled the small deck quite expertly. Satisfied, he deftly dealt the cards between Evangeline, Blackwall and his right-hand-man, Krem.

Evangeline smiled and pointed an insightful index finger at the leader of the Chargers. "I've been warned about your obsession with redheads, Bull."

He roared with laughter. "It's not so much a warning as it is _privilege_, Eves. And I don't _always_ limit myself to fiery-haired damsels." He nodded in the direction of a blonde barmaid. "She's been giving me the eye ever since I stepped into this joint. Everybody wants to ride the Bull."

"Put a few rounds in him and he thinks he's the belle of the ball," muttered Krem as he winked at Evangeline.

"Hey – this is Qunari liquor!" exclaimed the Bull defensively. "One sip and you pansies will be snoring on the ground before long."

"Then how come I've had one cup more than you and my eyesight is fine? Not to mention that my words aren't slurring." noted Blackwall as he coolly organized his cards.

"That's because you are the most stoic anomaly I've ever come across. You have the heart of a Qunari, my friend. But your Maker must have mucked up somewhere and given you human form." said Bull.

"How the devil did you manage to get Qunari ale shipped all the way out here?" asked Evangeline. She grimaced on assessing the strength of her cards. She had been dealt a poor hand. _Figures_.

"You can thank our ambassador for that. After Haven, she wanted to bolster morale. And I exploited that want. Charmed my way to her consent."

Krem sniffed in disbelief. "You did nothing of the sort. You agreed to attend one of her morale-boosting little parties. You'll be attending a soiree. Fancy little suit, booties and all." she badgered.

"Hey, as long as there're a few redheads at that bash, you can dress me up in anything you want."

"They're not that bad," added Blackwall. "The soirees, I mean. Good food."

"Good _company_, you mean," laughed Bull. "Our Warden's got a soft spot for the ambassador. He _volunteered_ to attend. You believe that? The man keeps to himself in the stables for days on end and then has a sudden change of heart just because the food's good? _Oh no_. This probably has something to do with her heaving, yet chaste, bosom." He slapped Blackwall playfully on the back. Sturdy as the Warden was, the Qunari sometimes couldn't acknowledge his own strength. Blackwall's face nearly met the table.

"You're off your rocker and don't you talk about her that way," scolded Blackwall, upright once more, as his thick brows lowered and almost joined in the middle. "I don't have the time to trot after women. Unlike _some_ people I know."

"You know," said Evangeline as she thwacked a card on the table, "it is possible that she _could_ be reciprocating your feelings. But I suppose that since you don't care for that sort of thing, you wouldn't want to know."

The four went silent for a spell. The Warden fixed his gaze on her and swallowed. "What does...uh...what does she say about me?"

"Oh, she's not saying much. It's what she's _doing_ that's noteworthy. Such as clearing off two appointments in one day to have a personal meeting with you."

"She wanted to know how my inquiries about other Grey Wardens were coming!" proclaimed Blackwall rather loudly.

Evangeline shot him a patronizing expression. "_Sure_. When she wanted to know if I'd run into any problems in securing the alliance of the Blades of Hessarian, she just had a messenger slip a note under my door. And after I'd responded, it took her two days to follow up."

"She's a busy woman," said Blackwall.

"My point exactly."

Bull cupped his chin in his hands and cast a saccharine glance at the Warden. "Lady Montilyet only gives her time to those worthy of her heart. I think the pair of you would make a fine couple. Bit of a paradox, but _ever so sweet_." He winked at Blackwall. "If I were in your shoes, I would whisk her away from her work for a while. Go for a walk maybe. Or bring her down here to play cards with us."

"Speaking of which – it's your move," prodded Krem.

"I'll do no such thing. You three would eat her alive." retorted Blackwall.

"We'll be nice, I promise!" laughed Evangeline.

"It's not such a bad suggestion," offered Krem. "She's accomplished a lot in a fortnight. It must have taken a lot out of her. She's probably driving herself towards exhaustion."

Blackwall's eyes widened in concern. "Do you really think so?"

"I do indeed." said Krem as he smiled conspiratorially at Bull and Evangeline. "Now can we please stop talking about your love life and play the damned game?"

* * *

><p>Evangeline walked at a brisk pace along the battlements. The wind had taken a change towards icy in the past hour. She glanced up at the sky. The once-starry night was now being masked by a large patch of clouds. Perhaps it would snow soon.<p>

The Commander's study door was open and she could see him attempting to wrestle something bulky through the doorway. He grunted as a solid thump followed. He let loose a string of expletives.

She rushed towards his side with a grin across her face. Cullen was striving to shove a bookshelf that was several inches taller than the opening inside.

"Oh, you stupid thing," she reprimanded with mirth. "What is wrong with you? Why can't you ever ask someone for help?"

He glared down at his leg. "I dropped an end on my foot."

"Aw. Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?"

The Commander's scowl disappeared and was replaced by a reluctant, lopsided grin. "Maybe once we're inside."

She moved towards the bookcase, placed her hands on her hips and assessed the oblivious piece of furniture in order to devise the best possible method to tackle it without injury. "Right then. Let's tilt it sideways. I'll take the lower end, you grab the upper one and we'll get this bastard inside before you know it."

Cullen approved of this plan and the pair quickly executed it. A minute later, they had it propped against the wall. Evangeline looked around his new abode as he moved towards the door and shut it. Apart from several piles of books and the one weighty piece of furniture to house them, Cullen's room was quite bare. She glanced at a ladder that seemed to lead to a loft of some sort.

"Good grief. I hope you don't have to get anything up there." she remarked.

"Well, I'll need to sleep on something. I can't exactly lie on sheets and blankets forever."

"You can always bunk with me," she said as she watched his cheeks burn. "So, do you like your new digs?"

He began to place the books on shelves one by one. "Better than I'd expected. Although they're missing one significant essential."

She waved a dismissive hand. "We'll get a bed up there without a problem – don't you worry. We might have to dismantle it beforehand. But we can put it together once all the pieces are up there. Just promise me you won't try to move all of this on your lonesome. You'll do yourself an injury. Neither one of us are young any more, you know."

He laughed as he came towards her with a book in his hand. "The missing essential is _you_," he murmured as he kissed her softly. "And I'm not sure that you're _that_ ancient. But if you insist on feeling that way, remember that wisdom sometimes accompanies age. So there's your meager silver lining."

"I feel old. But not very wise. In fact, as each day goes by, I'll admit to losing more grey matter. I feel pretty dumb, Cullen. Stupid even. How the hell can a single backwater dullard contest a resurrected, ancient Tevinter?" Her face fell and she gazed down at nothing in particular.

He strove to meet her eyes, but she seemed averse to it; as if she didn't want him to see her this way. Instead, he stroked her face and ran his fingers through her hair. She appeared to have cut it again. By herself. Several ends were of different lengths to others.

Was her behaviour simply a bad case of the nerves? He chastised himself – very rarely was it ever that elementary. After the Circle Tower and then Kirkwall, he had been properly traumatized. Later on, he'd concealed and submerged the trauma from his colleagues and acquaintances (for those were all he had at the time), but when solitude found him in idle moments, he had to confront those memories. And they had brought about such self-loathing that there were nights where he found himself longing for a more permanent sleep than which rest could provide him with. With circular, maddening logic, he scrutinized every decision he'd made during those central times in his life. Both major and minor. What events had led to his survival at the Circle? Why had he survived? Why could he not see Knight Commander Meredith for the traitor that she had become? How was it that tragedy seemed so eager to court him?

It was likely that she may have started down this path of aggravating self-examination; especially after Haven. Maybe she believed that she should have attempted to take on Corypheus instead of bringing down the mountainside. How was she to know that the Tevinter's Archdemon would carry him to safety so swiftly? Or perhaps she'd felt inept and ill-suited for what had transpired and what was to come. Or maybe it was a tumultuous amalgam of _everything_. And that, he'd decided, was something he could entirely empathize with.

Evangeline wasn't simply nervous. She was scared. He knew the feeling. Beyond his proximity, she expertly veiled her fear with humour – she was good at putting on a show. But now she was being violently sucked into a whirlpool of crises that not even the Champion of Kirkwall had to contend with. He could only offer her what no one had thought to give him. Friendship and love. And himself. He prayed that it would be enough.

"I don't think you're entirely alone in this. We were all shaken by what happened at Haven. And Corypheus – our reactions are atypical because he...well, shouldn't exist. He should be dead. None of us, not even our steely Seeker, really knows how to tackle him."

"Cass would have at least tried to fight him."

He shook his head. "No, she wouldn't. And neither would I. I've reached a point in my life where I'm capable of choosing my battles. I know when I'm out-maneuvered and out-witted. With Corypheus, I'd have done exactly as you'd had. And so would have Cassandra."

She remained silent for the better half of a minute. "Well, at least you four came up with some sort of counter-measure after Haven, didn't you? Saving the Empress from assassination. That's a _plan_. A step forward. All I can do is sit and gawk."

Cullen tossed the book to a side and wrapped his arms around her waist. "We were able to come up with something because we've been at this a lot longer than you have. And our plan really isn't that exceptional. It's a tentative one and it could prove to be a real shot in the dark."

"You really think the Empress is the key to unraveling his plot?"

"I don't know. But I hope. Alexius' future can only come to pass with her death."

She bit her lip in contemplation. From her advisors' veteran vantage points, they could clearly distinguish that Empress Celene was a pivotal barricade that held back dangerous floodwaters. But while Evangeline could appreciate the dire consequences of her death, she didn't understand exactly how Celene's throne had been or was currently threatened. Ignorance was a feeling she wasn't accustomed to. And in experiencing such small-fish-big-pond emotions, she felt stupid and unschooled.

But, almost if he'd read her mind, Cullen spoke. "I know we haven't had the time to teach you the finer points of Thedas' political machinations, but I do have some time tomorrow morning if you'd like. We could go over the situation together and afterwards, if you have any questions, I will answer them to the best of my ability. You're a history enthusiast – you might actually enjoy it."

"But you have so much work yourself!" protested Evangeline. "I saw Rylen hand you that _tome_ of reports from Leliana."

"How about a favour for a favour then?" He grasped her hand, led her to a wall and sat down cross-legged on the floor. "Can we talk for a bit?" He patted the ground beside him.

"_Uh-oh_," she muttered loudly as she took her place next to him. "Am I not going to like where this is headed? This isn't going to be another one of your outbursts where you want us to separate, is it?"

Cullen laughed softly. "I'll never leave you. Not unless it's something you want. So, no – this is another matter entirely. It's actually something that's been on our minds for a while."

"Clarify: _our_." requested Evangeline.

He took a deep breath, which only added to the palpable tension in the room. "Leliana, Cassandra and I have been thinking. About the Inquisition. The four of us – we've been running this show for a while now, and we – "

" – you want me to leave, don't you?"

"_What? Maker's breath_ – of course not!" He swiftly placed a concerned arm about her shoulders. "Quite the opposite in fact."

"You want me to stay? But I'm not going anywhere. I said I would see this through, and I will."

_That's my girl_, thought Cullen. "Well. Let me cut to the chase then. Do you remember what Mother Giselle said to us earlier? About the Inquisition needing a leader? She's right, you know. We can't go on like this without a face to inspire the people."

Evangeline's face broke into a relieved grin. "You'd be perfect for it, although I'd much rather it be Cassandra, as being the Inquisitor means I wouldn't get to see you as much as I'd like."

"I...uh...not me. I truly wouldn't be right for the job." He gingerly massaged the back of his neck with his free hand. "We've moved forward some before you came along, but it was only afterwards that we really began to make some significant strides."

Her eyes searched his warily. "You mean _me_, don't you."

He gave her a partially apologetic nod. "The people adore you – for everything you've accomplished. They love and respect you for what you did at Haven."

"I did it because it was _necessary_. Want had nothing to do with it."

"You still could have said _no_," reminded Cullen gently.

"Well, I am saying no. I'm saying _no_ now. To all this being-the-Inquisitor business, I give you a big, fat _no_. Go ask Cassandra instead."

He stroked her arm with his hand. "You're the only logical choice, Evie. And being the Inquisitor isn't going to be that different from being the Herald if you really think about it. The Inquisition is growing. Even should you remain as you are, our responsibilities are expanding – we'll have to take on new roles, play different parts whether we like it or not. But the best bit is that you will never have to face anything alone ever again. You'll have Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine and your knight in rusted armor at your side. We'll do our utmost to help you."

_I just want to go home_, thought Evangeline to herself. _I just want to go home and take you and the others I love with me. We could go to Par Vollen and live with Asogen. Nothing will touch the Qunari – not even Fade demons_. But she knew it was a lie. Running away never solved anything. It merely postponed the inevitable.

_But I like postponement. I like procrastinating_.

**Postpone and procrastinate with your own life if you wish, but to do so with that of others is a crime.**

_What the devil would the heroes in Varric's tales do?_

**They'd step up**.

_But they're works of fiction_.

**All the more reason to give the world something to believe in. What if, by eschewing your duties, you would doom the world to Alexius' ruined future?**

_I'm not abandoning anything. I'm just not going to take on this ridiculous title_.

**What if you're surrendering Cullen to the fate you'd witnessed in Redcliffe?**

_Now that's just not fair_.

**Wouldn't you do all you could to prevent that from happening?**

"Yes. Yes I would." she finally said aloud.

"What?" asked Cullen.

"I'll do it. I'll be your goddamn Inquisitor." She held her head in her hand as the implications of her acquiescence hit. Cullen stole a kiss from her. "And stop literally kissing up to me. Also, no pomp and vigour, okay? I know how Josephine gets. The minute she hears that I agreed to this nonsense, she'll throw some sort of sanguine ceremony."

He laughed, ignored her half-hearted remark, tenderly moved her hand from her face and began to kiss her lips again. "I can't control Josephine; she's the chirpiest force of nature I've ever encountered. If we say '_no ceremony, please_', she'll kill us with kindness and get on with her party regardless."

She smiled and began to kiss him back. "Mm. Leliana once threatened to sic Josephine on some troublemaking politician in Denerim. I believe she might have used those very words."

Before she was aware of it, she found herself sitting on top of the Commander, his back leaning against the wall and her legs kneeling on both sides of his person. She gingerly bit his lower lip in hunger and ran her fingers through his hair.

"I'm mussing it up," she murmured. "Aren't you going to stop me?"

A lengthy spell of silence followed before he replied. "I'm sorry – what was the question again?"

She threw her head back and laughed. Cullen thought it the best sound in the world. He had somehow managed to slip his hands underneath her jacket and then eventually her cotton shirt. He allowed his hands to explore the small of her back and slowly moved them upwards. She didn't protest nor pull back. In fact, with the acceleration of her breathing, she was inadvertently spurring him on. She drank him in with the intensifying contact, much as he'd done with her that night in Shepard's Crossing. For one instinctual, terrifying moment, he ceased briefly – frightened that she would walk out on him again.

But she caught his hesitation, recognized it for what it was and consoled him softly. "I'm not going anywhere this time. I promise."

He returned to her as his mouth ventured below her chin, and slid down her neck and towards her chest. Just as he'd predicted in Haven, Evangeline surrendered to her impulses quicker than he'd done, and quickly removed her jacket. She began to unbutton her shirt and he forgot to breathe as he watched her do so.

"Is this...um...is this the go-ahead signal?" he asked tentatively.

"Well, if you don't think so, I might have to have you institutionalized."

"That's a _yes_, then. Isn't it? I don't want you to make you do something you don't want to."

"I never do anything I don't want to," only half-done with her own shirt, she set to work on his own garb which was, at the moment, thankfully devoid of any armor. "Now shut up and kiss me."

He ecstatically obliged and the pair resumed their activity. Evangeline felt her skin warm with anticipation and then grow cold as her nerves and heart pounded in unison. She was a trifle surprised at this surge of coalescing feelings. She was more anxious than she'd expected. With Stroud, she was partly intoxicated during the deed, and there was more lust and curiousity than there was love. But with Cullen – the man had so thoroughly permeated her innermost self and had claimed her heart in more ways than one – that she couldn't contemplate another moment where she had been more vulnerable. It was frightening – to give yourself so utterly to another. Yet she wouldn't have it any other way.

Cullen's shirt hung loosely at around his waist and he was almost done with removing her own attire when a knock sounded at his door.

The pair froze in unmitigated surprise and horror. For a fraction of a second, they simultaneously wondered if they'd both been transported back in time – so similar in essence was this instant.

The Commander quickly recovered himself, and – fingers still poised over the buttons of Evangeline's shirt – he called out angrily. "_What!_"

"It's me," came a muffled voice. "I have something to tell you."

_Who is it_, mouthed Evangeline?

"I don't care who the hell it is so long as they go away and leave us alone." he whispered – his face really was quite irate. And then he yelled in the direction of the doorway. "Go bother the Seeker or Leliana; I'm busy!"

"It really can't wait," said the voice as it grew increasingly tempered with urgency. "And the Seeker is the last person who needs to know. Open the door, Commander. _Please_. I wouldn't stop by at this hour if it wasn't important."

Evangeline rose, re-buttoned her shirt and began to smooth down its crumpled front. "It sounds like Varric. And he sounds pretty worried."

"I don't care if he's worried."

"It takes a lot to rattle him, Cullen."

The Commander jumped up, and after having properly dressed himself from his naked torso and upwards, crossed the room in four indignant strides. "I swear, the universe does this on purpose," he muttered.

He flung the door open and glowered at the dwarf. "_What do you want?_" he demanded harshly.

Varric glanced up in surprise at the Commander when Evangeline came into view with an apologetic smile. He realized that he might have unwittingly impeded an intimate moment. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important, but I'm sorry all the same."

"_Fine_."

"I..uh...there's someone who might know something about the disappearance of the Grey Wardens."

"Well, why on earth aren't they in bed like everyone else at this ungodly hour?"

"Because it's Kirkwall's Champion. And she's risked a lot in coming here to bring us news." finished Varric before a troubled Evangeline beckoned him indoors.


	23. A Hazy Shade of Winter

**Author's note:**

Thank for the reviews, guys, and for putting up with this story!

I threw in a LoTR reference in here. Invisible cookies (aka kudos) to the first one to spot the easter egg.

I got real nostalgic writing the last few paragraphs to this chapter. Started thinking of some of my old friends when I was much younger and am missing them something bad. I lost touch with them as the years passed, and as I don't do the Facebook or Twitter thing, I haven't found them. I may have to do something about that.

Anyways. If you have friends nearby, go hug them today. I might have to drive over to mine's to give her a massive hug and tell her how brill she is.

You know, I like saying "plush and cuddly" a lot. I got it from Kung Fu Panda and Po, who's effectively trumped all other superheroes in my book. Yes, even Batman.

Okay.

* * *

><p><strong>A Hazy Shade of Winter<strong>

Old friends, old friends  
>Sat on their park bench like bookends<br>A newspaper blown through the grass  
>Falls on the round toes<br>Of the high shoes of the old friends

Old friends, winter companions, the old men  
>Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset<br>The sounds of the city sifting through trees  
>Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends<p>

Can you imagine us years from today?  
>Sharing a park bench quietly<br>How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years  
>Silently sharing the same fears<p>

Time it was and what a time it was, it was  
>A time of innocence, a time of confidences<br>Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph  
>Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you<p>

- Simon and Garfunkel (Old friends/Bookends Theme)

* * *

><p>Robust flakes of light snow spiraled downwards as they began to carpet the battlements, ramparts and various exteriors of the fortress. What had begun as a mild wind had now churned into a tempestuous one, and its updrafts crooned wistfully as they snaked in between gaps and openings of the stonework. Before long, tussocks of Ferelden and Orlesian vegetation were dusted with thickening white coats. Those who sought mitigation, solitude or simply relaxation within Skyhold's nursery quickly vacated the premises in search of warmer environs. The tavern's barman took one glance through his condensation-fogged window up at the oncoming storm and had decided to close shop. Armed only with dire warnings about the weather and threats to annul everyone's drink tab, he sent his patrons back to their lodgings post haste.<p>

It was well-past midnight and most of the flickering candles in windows had been put out. Save for a few. Like the one in the Commander's domicile, for example.

As soon as Varric had barged in, Cullen had demoted the dwarf to the status of annoying, white noise. He was more than mildly aggravated at the disruption of what little time he and Evangeline were awarded alone. But as Varric's tale unfolded, Cullen's antagonism towards him dissipated and the dwarf was promoted to the rank of proper, competent ally once again.

The sudden appearance of the long-sought Champion in Skyhold, of all places, was as much a shock to Varric as it was to Cullen and Evangeline. Varric informed them that she would only have risked discovery in the direst of circumstances, and in this instance – had brought them information on the untraceable Grey Wardens.

"But how would she know?" queried Cullen, as he sat down on the cold floor beside Evangeline.

"She has a contact on the inside," answered Varric before nodding in Evangeline's direction. "She said you'd know him."

"Alec," murmured Evangeline; her voice thin and low.

Cullen inadvertently stiffened. Evangeline had clued him in on Stroud's correspondence with Elena, and had mentioned that the boy-turned-Warden was now on the run for his life. But he seemed to have dropped out of existence as she waited impatiently for some sign of life.

"Vrai wouldn't tell me his name," said Varric.

"It's Stroud. Alec Stroud. He wanted to contact me. Said he needed our help. But his letters stopped suddenly – he said that someone was on to him and that he'd have to find another way to contact us." Evangeline's face contorted in pained concern. "Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

Varric turned his palms upwards in ignorance. "I don't know, Evie. You'll have to ask Vrai that."

She made as if to stand up, but Varric motioned for her to sit back down. She did as directed. "You can't speak with her tonight." he said. "She's exhausted and needs to rest. Tomorrow morning would be better."

Evangeline thrust an impatient hand towards the window. "He could be dying out there. The sooner we know where he is, the sooner we can get to him."

Cullen grasped her hand. "We can't send anyone out in this, Evie. Please listen to reason. First thing tomorrow morning, we'll convene a meeting and the five of us can debrief Hawke – "

Varric scratched his temple and issued the pair a sheepish smile. "There _might_ be a problem with that. She'll only meet with Evangeline. She won't even tell _me_ why."

"I think our Seeker's potential reaction might have something to do with that," noted Cullen astutely.

Varric let out a deep breath and hung his head. "Cassandra's not going to be very happy about it, is she." The dwarf's voice took on a somber baritone as he shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"Truth be told, Varric," said the Commander, "I'm not that pleased either. Both Cassandra and Leliana appealed to you. They _begged_ you to tell them where the Champion was, but you lied to them."

Evangeline's head jerked in Varric's direction. "What did you tell them?"

Varric leaned back against the wall with his hands clasped behind him. It was just a simple question. But the innocent query threaded a branching path underneath his skin that left him feeling ambushed. With fidgeting fingers, he felt his temper begin to rise. He seldom had to contend with this beast, and when he did, it always bested him. "I told them I didn't know, _alright_? Okay? Your Seeker would have brought Hawke here in shackles just like she did you. And then all of you would have forced her to save the damn world. So, yeah – I lied. I'm a terrible person. End of story."

Cullen reached out and squeezed Varric's shoulder in reassurance. "You were protecting your friend, I _know_. If Hawke had been at the conclave..." he allowed his words to taper off into dismal ramifications.

"Yeah." said Varric, for lack of a more suitable response.

"Let's forget about the past for now. We can't really do anything about it." said Cullen. He rose and pulled Evangeline to her feet. He contemplated Varric's apologetic and troubled form and attempted to give him a reassuring smile. "And we can't really do much of anything tonight either. Best get some rest."

Varric contrived to reciprocate in kind but all he could manage was a grunt before he walked off into the night.

* * *

><p>As the plank of wood swung down towards her head, she deftly pivoted on her left foot and struck it with her sword. It splintered – splitting along the grain until half of it fell to the cold ground. As another section fluctuated in her direction from a different branch, she thrust at it with a heaving cry. Sweat beaded on her brow from her exertions and the moisture chilled her skin in the frigid weather. Evangeline carried on in this manner for half an hour until a pair of neatly laced boots casually sauntered into view.<p>

"I think this is where the handsome young protagonist walks in and tells the less aesthetically-appealing heroine who – " he sniffed the air in distaste, " – smells atrocious by the way – to step back from her labours, everyone's doing the best they can, and Stroud's a big boy and can look after himself until we get there so can you please stop playing the loony woodsman before you impale someone."

She whipped around, her black hair clinging to her face with sweat, and readied herself to issue an angry retort. But to her surprise, she found herself grinning instead. "I'm more aesthetically appealing than you on my worst day."

Adric let out a disbelieving snort. "Well. This must be _worse_ than worst then." He marched up to the large tree from which several slabs of wood hung. Someone must have had to scale its sturdy branches to tie all of it in place. Someone nimble. _Sera_. It had to be. "Wooden dummies not cutting it for you?"

She sheathed her sword. "Dummies are for infants."

"So whose idea was this?"

"Mine. I suggested it to Cass on days when she couldn't teach me."

"Not a bad idea. Wish you thought of this earlier. We could've used this hack-away hobby of yours every time you lost your temper. Instead of having you sink your claws into _me_."

"Meow." she said as she hissed playfully at him. And then the scowl was back. "It isn't working today."

"What isn't? My illustrious presence or the swordplay?"

"Both."

Shivering in the winter weather, Adric beckoned for her to follow him towards warmer quarters. "That's because you're worried for Alec. I can reassure you all I want, but it's not going to lessen your concern."

The pair departed the training yard and rounded a corner. They happened across Harritt who nodded in their direction before continuing on his way. "I just need to be doing _something_. This shitty storm didn't hold up Hawke and she's on her way back to Crestwood, so why should _I_ have to stay?"

"So how did that go? I hope you spoke with her well before your _exertions_. One mustn't meet the Champion of Kirkwall while smelling like a lust-crazed bull."

"Fine, I guess. She said that Alec has some information he needs to tell me in person. He has a few things he needs to take care of first before we meet. He's fine for the time being, but she said that we need to bring him here because there's no other place where he'll be safer. She also said that the Warden Commander has issued a bounty for his life." Evangeline stopped briefly in her tracks and hung her head. But before Adric could console her, her shoulders straightened and she marched forward as if the temporary melancholy had never transpired.

She went on. "And she said that she wanted to bring him with her here – she told Alec that she could protect him, but he was having none of it. He told her that anyone he was with was in danger and that he couldn't put that on her. Not her and certainly not me."

"Hm. He seems to have grown up some."

Evangeline flashed her eyes at him. "He refuses to come. He's going to tell us what we need to know and then he's going to face the Wardens. He could _die_, Adric. He's going to get himself killed and he knows it."

As they walked down a cobbled path and up stone steps, Adric pondered Stroud's actions. His metamorphosis towards martyrdom _did_ suggest a somber maturity. His willingness to share intelligence to preserve an Order that had violently turned against him and the refusal to endanger others at the possible cost of his own life was beyond noble. Adric's concern swelled alongside Evangeline's and he began to hope that the man he'd so frequently turned his nose up at would not meet a bitter end.

"What else did Hawke say?" asked Adric gently as they closed the door to his quarters.

"That we have to save him. He's a good man and the world can't afford to lose him. Especially not now." She sat down on a chaise lounge with her hands clasped between her knees. She was at a loss for what to do, so she succumbed to ramblings. "His middle name is Jean-Luc. He hated it because it was his father's. He never _did_ get along with him. Did you know his parents were killed?"

"I didn't."

"Neither did I until Elena told me." Her jaw tightened. Dredging up these facts appeared to pain her, but she felt compelled to issue this masochistic tribute. "His wanderlust was infectious. He'd been to so many places, done so many things – even before I'd met him, but he was always thirsty for more. He loved literature, the theater, culture, people – "

" – for goodness sake's, Evie – the man isn't dead!" exclaimed Adric as he plopped himself beside her. "Stop trying to bury the poor chap and start coming up with a plan to save him!"

"A plan...?" Evangeline glanced at her friend as if he'd impetuously asked her to dance the Remigold.

He slapped her head. "Yes – you _surly_ _buffoon_! A plan! You're the bloody _Inquisitor_ now – congrats on that promotion, by the way – you can do whatever the hell you want. So put that stagnant brain of yours to good use and _do_ something about it!"

She leapt to her feet as if he'd lit a fire beneath her bottom. "_Right_. Okay. Storm or no storm, I'm going to Crestwood."

He slammed his fist into his open palm in happy vigour. "Attagirl!"

"You'll come along too, won't you?" she asked expectantly.

Adric grunted. "What – trek across treacherous terrain and cultivate several bunions, sleep with tree roots digging into my back, consume the same food for days on end while you search for your ex-lover?"

"So you're coming then?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the _world_."

* * *

><p>"Hurry, hurry!" wailed the young elf as she dragged Evangeline by the hand under the gazebo, across the nursery, and through Skyhold's main hall. "She's going to <em>kill<em> him!"

"_Who? Who?_ For heaven's sake, will you please tell me who's killing who!" shouted a rapidly blanching Evangeline. She was yanked forward and almost bumbled into a bald gentlemen decked in Orlesian livery. She didn't have time to apologize as the elf pulled her on her merry way once more. As several of the Inquisition's less polite flock gaped open-mouthed at the absurd pair, she felt the need to placate the stunned crowd. "No one's killing anyone on my watch! I'm the Herald and there'll be no murder here!" And then to the elf, "_Ow_ – you've a grip like a _vice_! There's no need to cut off my circulation. What the hell have they been feeding you?"

"She's going to do him in!"

"I'm going to do _you_ in if you don't tell me what the hell's going on!"

"The Seeker's tossing the dwarf!"

"No one tosses a dwarf," muttered Evangeline – now properly panicked as she picked up the pace.

She flung the door to Cassandra's abode wide open. A cacophony of heavy thuds, scrapes and groans sounded above them. Evangeline gave the elf a frightened and bewildered expression, but the girl could only cower and rapidly slunk back outside.

_Oh, by all means. Let me handle this one_. She raced up the flight of stairs calling Cassandra's and Varric's name in alternate succession, but her only replies came in the form of further thumping and grunting.

Finally on the second floor, she watched the brawl unfold. Now. That was unfair, for the only _brawling_ being done was executed by the Seeker. Varric lay quite stunned at the foot of an overturned table as Cassandra closed in on him with an irate savagery. Evangeline pounced on the Seeker and strove to peg her arms back. Cassandra hissed in annoyance and wrenched herself free with surprising swiftness and vigour. In doing so, Evangeline was hurled to the floor – both derriere and pride quite wounded.

Varric was quickly coming to his senses and cried out to her in alarm. "You've got to stop her!"

She did the only thing she could think to do at the time. There was only one way to stave off a frothing-mad beast. She leapt to her feet, snatched up a torch from the wall and thrust it into the flames in the hearth. She then stepped in between the Seeker and her prey – waving the lit torch threateningly before her. She hoped that Cassandra would find it in her heart to forgive her later.

That got Cassandra's attention and appeared to do away with a fraction of her aggression as well. "_He knew! _The entire time – he knew where the Champion was. And he didn't tell us!"

"Cassandra!" shouted Evangeline. "_Calm the fuck down!_"

The expletive took more of the fire out of her eyes. "I...yes. But he lied to me. To you. To everyone."

"I lied to protect my friend." Varric heaved himself to his feet and glared at the Seeker. "And you'd have locked her up too and then whipped her into submission – she's gone through enough as it is! Actually, no; _you'd_ have sent her to the Conclave and by now she'd be dead!"

Evangeline spun around. She shook the torch at him. "_You!_ Stop that – you're _not_ helping!"

"You see?" Cassandra let out a grim laugh and gesticulated at the dwarf. "Push him to the edge and his true self speaks. He's nothing but liar and a _snake_, Evangeline. He pretends to be your friend, when all the while he's devising plans to betray you from the inside." She addressed Varric directly. "What do you put in those _manuscripts_ of yours, dwarf? Inquisition secrets?"

Evangeline gawked at the pair. "Stop that! You two need some serious time outs." She shot an angry look at Cassandra. "What Varric did was wrong, but he did it to protect his friend. And the fucking milk's spilt already, so there's nothing any of us can do about it. We're not going to get anything done by bashing each other's heads in."

Varric gave the Seeker a slight, vindicated smile as he stood by Evangeline's side.

Evangeline's visage flushed an angry red and what small amount of pleasure he'd felt vanished quite completely. "And _you_! You can wipe that smug grin off your face because you lied to us and you'd bloody well remember that. Now I've got to go to Crestwood and deal with two fucking big problems that aren't named _Cassandra_ and _Varric_. Real problems. You know, the undead, walking skeletons, demons. Or have you forgotten all about that? I don't have the time to deal with your free-for-all. So I _do_ want something from you and you're damned well going to give it to me. While I'm gone, am I going to have to worry about whether you'll spin another delightful yarn for us?"

"No," mumbled a sheepish Varric.

"I'd better not, because one more misstep and you're out." She jerked her thumb behind her for effect. She moved towards the stairwell as her gaze flicked back and forth from the pair. "You should be _ashamed_ of yourselves. If I come back to hear that you have resumed your...your sordid _lovemaking_, I'm going to throw the pair of you into a cell and will sic Sera's bees on you. _That's right_. The bees. The same ones that got Adan in Haven. You remember the size of his welts, don't you? Just you keep those welts in mind anytime you get the urge for some bloodletting. _I am your goddamn Inquisitor and I can do whatever the hell I want_."

Cassandra and Varric were rendered quite mute by the tirade and only managed to nod their assent.

She stormed off but once well out of sight, she reduced her speed as a triumphant smile overcame her.

_What a rush. Oh, Adric, you'd be so proud_.

* * *

><p>The Commander galloped down the steps two at a time. Despite nearly losing his footing on the final one, he ignored the wide-eyed stares of passersbys and ran at a breakneck speed towards Skyhold's gates. Ahead of him, he saw Evangeline – surrounded by an already-mounted Adric, a few of Leliana's scouts and Cullen's own soldiers who were readying themselves to lower the gates – place one foot in the stirrups of Tamika, a black thoroughbred Dennet had acquired from Orlais.<p>

"_Wait!_" he cried out. "Wait!"

Foot still held in the stirrup, her head turned in his direction along with that of the others.

He trotted towards her and panted. "You...forgot this." From within his armored lapel, he pulled out the small, plush and cuddly form of Ser Rutherford – the stuffed bear he'd made for her years ago. As Cullen placed the toy in her hand, a wave of realization stole over him. He felt the weight of many a gaze settle on his person and with this recognition, his cheeks burned something fierce.

But he wasn't exactly alone. As she clasped the bear, Evangeline's own countenance took on a deep pink hue and she fumbled valiantly to salvage both dignity and secrecy. "Uh...I...oh, yes. For the children in Crestwood. That's very thoughtful of you, Commander."

His gloved fingers were unwittingly splayed at his sides and it took him the better part of a minute to catch on. "I...well, you see, I thought they might like it."

Adric stroked the powerful neck of his own steed and grinned devilishly at the pair. "Just the one bear for all the suffering children of Crestwood?" Evangeline flung daggers in his direction with her eyes but he persisted. "The town's besieged by demons, Commander. Surely you can come up with more than the one plaything. And that's a pretty ratty little specimen, no? It looks old and..." Adric peered the bear, "...a tad moth-eaten."

_Oh, dear Maker_, worried Evangeline.

"It's a...uh...a prototype. More to come of course. More plush teddy bears, that is." muttered Cullen.

"You have a factory, then? This a little side project of yours? To keep you distracted from those lonely, dark, brooding evenings?"

_You're the devil_. "Yes. To the plush teddy bears, I mean."

"Say _plush teddy bears_ one more time, Commander."

Evangeline picked up a pebble and flung it hard at Adric. He raised his hands up in half-hearted self-defense as he laughed in glee. She let out an enraged cry. "_That's it!_ Can it, zip it, shut it! We're going – like _right sodding now!_"

* * *

><p><strong>One Week Later<strong>

Upon reaching the hauntingly beautiful, yet mournful valley of Crestwood, Adric and Evangeline found that their search for Stroud had to be temporarily shelved. The situation was several degrees darker than what Leliana's reports had read. A Fade Rift had ripped its way beneath the surface of a wide lake, which also happened to be the flooded location of Old Crestwood – a small city that the townsfolk were forced to abandon during the Blight. The mayor had informed the duo that they had the Darkspawn to thank for the ruination of what was once their home; as the beasts had somehow managed to wreck the controls of a dam which subsequently let loose the tide onto the lowlands. He had lost too many good people to the tragedy, and his face had contorted in pain as he implored them to prevent a second one from unfolding. He continued to plead for their help despite their consent, and provided them with heart-rending accounts of what they'd had to endure in keeping the Fade demons from tearing their lives to shreds.

And so, under permanently overcast skies, Adric and Evangeline crossed fog-drenched moors, soggy tussocks of flora and muddied paths. As they climbed yet another rise towards the small bandit-held fortress which housed the dam's controls, they witnessed an inky stain of smoke weaving its way to the heavens from a window in the ramparts. Against the backdrop of the morose sky, the wind smudged the coiling spire and the scent of hot meats wafted in their direction.

Propelling forward; newly conscious of their empty bellies, the pair began the arduous undertaking of clearing the keep of all villains and vagabonds. Luckily for them, they only had to dispatch a small number – no more than five or six men. The rest of their contingent was most likely away on ransacking business or whatever idle mercenaries got up to these days. Upon accessing the dam's mechanisms, Adric and Evangeline found it to be quite hale and hearty and only in need of a good dusting. No destruction had taken place here.

_Perhaps the Darkspawn merely operated the wheel then_, suggested Evangeline.

_Darkspawn were many things, but intelligent wasn't one of them_, Adric had responded. Although he had conceded that they did have smarter counterparts up the hierarchical ladder.

It was an inconsequential matter and they let it rest before sealing the dam's gates once more. Step one of their lengthy plan complete, they stopped once for a meal and a few times more out of biological necessity. They then slogged back in the direction they'd come – slaying a few undead along the way – and journeyed to the Rift.

At the lip of the downward plain lay Old Crestwood. Decrepit, half-standing huts and homes stood as grim testimonies to the sudden annihilation of its occupants. They traipsed solemnly through the soaked wreckage and towards a cavern that led to the Breach. As they did so, they had to reverently move a child's cot and playthings, an intricate armoire that must have been much-valued in its time and someone's woodworking bench out of their way. The commonplace items had now intoned weightier, somber qualities – life was ephemeral and all too fragile. One well-placed puff of air and the flame could be snuffed in an instant.

Dark musings pushed aside for the time being, the pair ventured downwards and deeper into the cave. The amber hues of restless spirits – very possibly Crestwood's dead – roamed the black chasms within, and they aimlessly circumvented the cavity's natural rock formations mumbling mournfully to themselves. As they followed a narrow watercourse to the heart of the large hollow, they recognized that their proximity to the Breach was increasing as more demons charged at them from the shadows. Using the incensed spirits as a macabre trail of sorts, they quickly discovered the Rift in all its ethereal and sinister glory. They summoned their remaining strength to close the blasted maw and breathed collective sighs of relief once the ordeal was over.

To say that they emerged into a changed world was an understatement. Amidst the steady _drip-drip_ of remaining water that ran in rivulets along the torn foundations of houses, the sun shone brightly against a cerulean, summer sky. Adric and Evangeline exchanged looks of wonder, followed by smiles and then eventual laughter.

They'd won the day again.

* * *

><p>As their footfalls treaded softly across forest mold, the vegetation thinned. A sharp and jagged ravine lay behind them, and Adric and Evangeline mustered the paltry remnants of their strength in order to scale the slope towards the rendezvous location Hawke had marked on their map back in Skyhold.<p>

"Remind me to tell the woman never to take up cartography," muttered a weary Adric.

"Well, she had to pick a place that couldn't easily be found." came Evangeline's listless justification. She hadn't the stamina to expound upon the benefits of stealth and subterfuge while dodging a death warrant. But she doubted that Adric would have cared anyway.

Ten minutes later and the day was capitulating to nighttime greys. The pair were ready to admit defeat in locating Hawke's cave – at least for the time being – and were prepared to set up camp when a voice called to them from the deepening darkness.

"Over here," sounded a feminine tone.

Evangeline, strength miraculously restored, jogged up the hill, leaving Adric to trudge behind her at a snail's pace. She could feel her heart beat with both exertion and anticipation. She clasped both of Hawke's hands in wordless greeting.

"He's back there," said the Champion as she smiled at the Inquisitor.

Evangeline raced through the narrow passage and towards flickering firelight. As the tunnel widened into a larger chamber, she caught sight of the man seated in profile atop a small boulder as he pecked away at a meal he'd just cooked. His posture had slouched over the pot in his hand and his face was hidden from view, but he looked thinner and his demeanour seemed terribly care-worn. She froze at the cavern's internal maw and felt her eyes moisten.

"Alec?"

He glanced upwards and on taking in her presence, dropped his meal to the floor and rushed towards her. The pair embraced one another for several moments. Finally, Evangeline pulled back and examined her friend intently. His features were sharper and more masculine, but just as she'd remembered. His hair was a trifle shorter, but he retained its unruly mop and she resisted the urge to ruffle it just as she'd done so many years ago. He also sported a rather thick 'stache which moved as he beamed at her.

But his eyes. They'd changed.

She didn't subscribe to _the eyes were the windows to the soul_ rot, as she believed in scrutinizing the entirety of one's countenance for signs of emotion. But his eyes _had_ changed, and not for the better. They sat in discrepancy to the rest of his - mostly pleased-to-see-her - physiognomy and the implications were a little...jarring.

"You look good," she lied.

"Je ne pensais pas..." he caught himself and shook his head as he unintentionally slipped into his native Orlesian, "...I didn't think you'd come. And not so soon. I'd thought you'd ask for some kind of clarification or – "

"Really? Did you _really_ think I could leave an old friend to the fate you'd described in your letters?"

He issued a sad chuckle.

She stepped back and gestured below her nose with an index finger. "I...like what you've got going there."

"No, you don't," he smiled insightfully.

"No, I don't." She placed her hands on her hips and laughed.

"I've missed you, Evie girl." he said as he pulled her into a second embrace.


	24. How We Left Things

**Author's note:**

Thanks again for the reviews, and here's a special shout-out to Tokugawa Blitzer. _You rock_. I really enjoy our discussions and nonsensical musings. I hit a bit of road block in writing this chapter, and I owe her thanks for helping me along with it.

A nod to Sherlock was inserted in this chappie too. If you watch the show, methinks you'll spot it straight away.

A quick note - I may have said this before several times, but if you've been following the story from the get-go, you'll remember that I took certain liberties with re-creating Stroud's character. He's much younger than the in-game depiction and clearly has a different background. I hope this still comes off as believable though.

Also, reviews rock, so a few wouldn't go amiss. Pretty please?

* * *

><p><strong>How We Left Things<strong>

Snug within their den for the night yet ragged with all this skullduggery simply to remain whole, Stroud lumbered to the cavern's mouth in search of some nighttime air. Hawke – holding a stumpy torch, and Evangeline meandered up the curve of the hill towards himself and Adric. She and Hawke carried more kindling for the night. As they neared, his eyes absorbed the woman-child he'd once loved and wondered if she'd preserved those qualities. She still crossed the ground with awkward, lengthy strides – a trait that only the Chasind wouldn't find out of place, and her gamine aspects were adept at driving the boys away. But they had greatly appealed to him then, and much to his surprise, they began to warm his heart once more.

He watched as she puffed aside strands of her boyishly-cut hair. Juxtaposed against Hawke, in appearance, the pair couldn't have looked more different. Despite the weary countenance, torch in one hand, lumber tucked beneath the other, Hawke maintained herself with graceful poise. Long auburn hair now almost a dark brown in the light of a skulking moon, her features were soft and feminine, alluring yet amiable; picture-perfect as it were. Evangeline's own beauty was a reticent one, almost as if she'd chosen to deliberately mask it from view. Her face at rest was almost sulky; the thick brows held low, the corners of her mouth inclined ever so slightly downwards. But in her element, the veil parted and it was if everything from within and without shone in absolute synchrony.

At least, that's what it felt like to him.

"Enjoying the view?" came a quiet voice from beside him.

Stroud cast a sideways gaze at Adric. He'd met him only on a few past occasions, but they were adequate to recognize the judicious dislike. He wondered if that hadn't changed as well. "Uh...just here for the air."

Adric cleared his throat. "I know it's not my position...actually, wait, it _is_. So I feel the need to tell you that she's spoken for."

Stroud's grey eyes glanced from Adric to Evangeline and then back to their original position.

"Oh, don't be absurd," snorted his companion. "Surely she's told you I don't swing that way."

Stroud didn't quite know what to say regarding the man's sexual orientation, so he turned the wheel back on track. "I don't intend to pursue the girl, if that's what you're getting at."

_Was the claim genuine_, he wondered? Or perhaps he was reading too much into it. Best give the man the benefit of the doubt then. He was on the lam for his life after all. "Well, good." Adric placed his hands on his hips. "Because she's like a little brother to me, and none of us need another variable thrown into this mix."

Stroud placed a reassuring hand on Adric's shoulder and right before the two women came into earshot, he spoke. "In give or take a few months, I'll probably lie six feet under in an unmarked grave somewhere. And dead men don't frequently take lovers to their bed." He gently pushed past Adric and headed back into the cave.

_That's not wholly true_, mused a troubled Adric as he followed suit.

* * *

><p>Evangeline stared at Stroud as a grim chill overcame her. The implications of his narrative spelt something far more troubling than any of them could have imagined. "All of the Grey Wardens? Are you sure that they're <em>all <em>experiencing this?" In hindsight, Evangeline found herself wishing that she'd brought Blackwall along and then wondered why he'd never admitted to hearing the Calling.

"The ones I've encountered are. It seems to be louder in those who've served longer. In Clarel, for example and some of the more senior Wardens." said Stroud.

As the four individuals crowded around the fire, Hawke rose and quietly poured a warm brew into four mugs. She passed the drinks around.

Adric shook his head. "How exactly does Corypheus intend to exploit this? And surely, if he approached Clarel or any other Grey Warden for that matter, they could sense the taint within him?"

Stroud brushed an errant swathe of hair from his forehead. "Livius Eramond is his intermediary. None of the Wardens seem to be aware of his connection to Corypheus. Or even that Corypheus lives."

"Who's Eramond?"

Hawke took a sip of the rich beverage, and gazed back at the pair with emerald eyes from above the rim of her mug. "A Tevinter magister. He's Venatori."

It was foolish to have believed that Alexius was the final Venatori agent they would encounter. "Oh. Well isn't that just peachy keen. The last thing we need is a nationalist cult, devoted to their Elder One, stringing the Wardens along for the ride." Evangeline issued a bitter smile. "He _does_ get around, doesn't he?"

"It gets better," said Stroud as he reciprocated the expression. "Eramond's convinced Clarel that the only way to prevent the entire Order from leaping off the proverbial cliff is by doing away with the Old Gods once and for all."

"That's...not so bad, is it? No Old Gods, no Blight. Ever."

"It is when you need a demon army to lead the charge."

"Oh."

"And to summon a demon army you need – "

" – blood magic." finished Evangeline.

"Your Corypheus now commands the Wardens in addition to the Venatori and the Templars. I assume you're aware of the Red Templars then as well?"

Evangeline nodded.

"Hawke's heard rumours of a red lyrium smuggling operation. In fact, she was tracing a lead in the Storm Coast when it was suggested that I meet with her."

"How big?"

"The operation isn't entirely limited to that region. So, it'd be safe to assume that it's significantly large."

Adric held his head in his hands. _Maker_, if he'd known what he'd signed up for... Well. It was too late now. "As much as I wish to wave my white flag and keel over, let's pretend for a moment that the _entire_ universe isn't arrayed against us. I speak for both Evangeline and myself when I ask – _what the hell do we do now?_"

"The situation's not entirely hopeless," spoke Hawke softly.

"You could've fooled me."

She went on. "We'll have to break this down into simpler elements. After Haven, Corypheus thinks you helpless and scattered, yes? Is he aware of Skyhold?"

"If he isn't now, he soon will be. We've been taking in a lot of refugees. Surely the word will spread." replied Evangeline.

"You should have a bit of time on your side then. And even if he's aware of its existence, there's the likelihood that he sees you as ineffective and weak. He won't see you as a significant threat. He's got _quite_ the ego – trust me. _Now_. I'm certain you receive excellent counsel from your advisors already, but in case you haven't considered this approach, perhaps it's best that you divide your task force to tackle the Venatori and Templars separately. Have an allotment of higher ranking soldiers within each group specialize in knowledge of either opposition. History, strategy, military tactics. I've made the mistake of stumbling into fights without much knowledge and it became a free-for-all that went quickly out of hand."

"Our Commander adheres to the same logic," said Evangeline.

"Good. As for Eramond and the Wardens – there'll be no time to step back and lick your wounds. This demon army is right around the bend." warned Hawke.

"He hasn't created it yet," added Stroud upon taking in Adric's and Evangeline's anxious faces, "but he will soon. There's an abandoned Orlesian keep: Adamant Fortress. It's in the Western Approach and Eramond and Clarel have commissioned it several months ago. There'll be a ritual there. About a fortnight from now."

"How do you know all this?"

"I've put out feelers. And not everyone within the Order thinks as Clarel does. Although, I will admit that in comparison, the opposition's numbers are somewhat paltry."

"How paltry?" asked Evangeline.

"I can sum up our figures on both hands. And we've lost one or two already."

"And where are the rest?"

"Scattered. We decided that it was best that way. Until we've run out of options, it's best that we isolate ourselves from one another."

"So he can't take all of you out at once," realized Evangeline. "Smart. What of the Hero of Ferelden? And that Alistair chap? Don't tell me that they've followed Clarel's example?"

"Not at all. They thought Clarel entirely mad to follow Eramond so blindly. There's a price on their heads too. They wanted us to hold the fort here while they left together to search for a way to end the Calling." responded Stroud.

_Good for them_, thought Evangeline. She placed her hands on her knees and clasped them decisively. "We need to send word to Skyhold tomorrow morning and get back there as soon as possible. I'd like for you to tell the rest of the Inquisition what you've learned in person. And you'd be much safer _there_ than here."

Stroud's lips turned upwards and he scratched his cheek in diffidence. "I'm...uh, not going back with you, Evie."

"Why not?" she demanded.

Her brows lowered, and a threatening cloud overshadowed her face. It was one Stroud had never perceived before. It exposed a darker maturity that she seemed to have cultivated in his absence.

"Let's just say that the Inquisition can't afford to lose their Herald."

"I told you he'd refuse," chimed in Hawke. And then she turned to Stroud. "Stop being so stubborn and listen to the lady. What'd be the point in you sacrificing your life when you could be of use to the Inquisition? To the Wardens?"

"The danger I bring to anyone I travel with supersedes the benefits of my skills. I can't allow it." Stroud said, his tone even yet quite clear in its intent.

"Hawke's right. You can play the martyr when the world isn't falling to pieces all you want, but right now, we need every ally we can get." countered Evangeline. "If it's the Calling you're afraid of giving into, I've another Warden friend back at Skyhold. You won't be alone in facing this."

"I'm not afraid of the Calling. I can resist it. But the Wardens Clarel and Eramond sent after me are relentless. If they see me traveling with you, they'd either kill us all or follow us back to Skyhold and spread the word onto their superiors. Is that a risk that you – _Herald _of Andraste – are willing to take?"

Hawke exhaled in frustration. "We left those two Wardens back in Crestwood to follow a false trail that leads deep into the Hinterlands. I saw them leave two days ago. If you leave tomorrow, they'll never be the wiser."

Stroud shifted on the rock uncomfortably. Out of the edge of his vision, he weighed in Evangeline's presence and contemplated the words of his friends. Following this revelation of intelligence, he'd fully expected to tie up some of life's loose ends before journeying to Adamant. In his mind's eye, he envisioned the final encounter he'd have with his former brothers and sisters. He wholly anticipated to be slaughtered, but not before he said his piece. Not before he could manage to cast doubt on their desperately insane endeavors.

"I don't expect you to sit back and kick your feet up in Skyhold," added Evangeline, furthering the ambiguity of his motives. "You'll go to Adamant, alright. Except that you won't have to do it alone. We'll do it together and as allies. That way, you'll stand a better chance of making it out in one piece."

A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We'll see."

"You have tonight to consider it," she said with thinned lips. "I know I can't exactly drag you out by the scruff of the neck and you're your own person now, so the decision is yours alone. But I want you to know that you have an alternative."

Several beats of silence followed as the three of them studied him in the flickering firelight. "I...understand." he said finally before they all stood up and began nightly preparations.

* * *

><p>As Adric, Hawke and Evangeline slept soundly in a darkened corner of their hideout, Stroud slipped quietly out of his bedroll and towards the dwindling fire. He threw a few pieces of dried wood onto the flames which began to languidly consume the kindling and sat down – cross-legged, before it. Stroud gathered a clean rag which he soaked in a little water from a pitcher. He moistened his upper lip with it. He then picked up a tarnished silver platter that Hawke lugged around with her and lifted a straight razor from a crooked hook that had been sloppily hammered into the rocky wall. Holding the plate-turned-mirror with one hand in front of his face, he rested three fingers from the other on the middle of the blade, his thumb at its center and pinkie on its tang. Holding the device at an acute angle, he ceremoniously and slowly began to shave off his moustache with thin, even strokes and along the grain.<p>

Task completed, he washed and wiped the blade down. He wiggled his mouth to and fro, scrutinizing the changed image that reflected back at him.

"I hope you didn't get rid of it on my account," said Evangeline from behind him. She sat down on the dusty ground.

Startled, he nearly dropped the platter. Recovering himself, he shook his head. "It was getting a little itchy anyway. Hawke's been teasing me for months about it."

"How did you come to meet her?"

"Through the Grey Warden, Alistair, actually. He'd met her once before the shit hit the fan in Kirkwall. He'd felt very sorry for her predicament then. She lost her mother and brother. Her only surviving family member, her sister, was then forced to join the Circle there. She's still alive, thankfully. Went into hiding as soon as that numbskull, Anders, blew up the Chantry."

"Did you ever meet the Hero of Ferelden?" she asked – wide-eyed, all curiousity about Hawke swept aside.

He chuckled. She was still enraptured by legendary tales, he noted. He was quick to exploit that weakness. "No. I didn't." He leaned in closer. "But I'll tell you what I _did_ suspect though. I think the pair are lovers."

"No!" she breathed.

"The way he spoke about her. There's no mistaking it. At the very least, even if she's not in love with him, he's clearly quite smitten with her." Stroud's grin widened as Evangeline brought her knees up to her chin and hugged them tight with anticipation.

"What gave you the notion...?"

"We were having supper together one evening and we somehow slid into a discussion of former lovers. The only tales he regaled me with were of those of her. It was a little nauseating, actually. Tristan was so smart and funny. Tristan could be both silly and brave. Tristan relinquished her titles and land to her brother simply so that she could serve the Grey Wardens. Tristan this, Tristan that. _Bleuch_." His face grimaced in recollection.

She laughed. "So what's _he_ like?"

"Well, he's not as good looking as myself," he teased as her eyes sparkled back at him, "but what he lacks in that department he more than makes up for in others. He's a committed man. To his friends. To the Order. A little on the...odd side. Somewhat childlike. Has an unhealthy obsession with cheese. But unwaveringly loyal. A man you'd be lucky to have in your corner."

"I wish I'd gotten to meet him." She stretched her arms out behind her and leaned back against her hands.

The pair contemplated their thoughts in lassitude for a spell.

Stroud then gave her an appraising glance. "So have the Templars temporarily absolved you of your duties while you play the Herald?"

"I'm...not with them anymore, actually. Haven't been for a while. I left after that short stint at the Circle Tower. Well, we were assigned to look into another matter somewhere else when I decided to leave." She unconsciously tapped her foot against the dirt in mild unease.

"Oh." He seemed a little surprised. "What changed your mind?"

"I killed a blood mage. Just because he ran away and was trying to protect the woman he loved. I didn't think much of it at the time, but afterwards...it began to eat away at me. The Templars were beginning to wear away the distinction between defending yourself and murder. I had to leave before I started doing the same."

Stroud unconsciously rubbed the bare area beneath his nose before breaking the silence. "And what about Adric? Is he still with them?"

A jarring image of a catatonic Adric, paler than she'd ever seen him, wrists bound with gauze slammed against the shores of her mind. Evangeline's gut tightened and her mood sobered. "_No_. He was finished with it. We both were."

As her emotions slunk back behind a taciturn and impassive visage, he pondered exactly what she had chosen to withhold. She never did play her cards this close to her chest, not unless the situation had grown alarming enough or unless she held something worth concealing. He found himself reaching out to brush a loose strand of her hair from her face, but she flinched in avoidance and to his surprise – the reaction stung more than he'd imagined.

Before he could apologize she started to speak as if nothing had happened. "How bad is it for you?"

His voice came out a little hoarse. "How bad is what?"

"The Calling. How intense, I mean."

He let out a labored breath. "Not as bad as it is for some. Softer when there are other noises to drown it out. Louder at night when everything goes quiet. But I should count myself lucky. It's driven a few others mad already. They...they've already made their way to Orzammar."

"You should keep account of it. In a journal or something. Maybe there's a proper reason for why you're less affected by it than the others."

Stroud pulled out a small canteen from his trouser pocket. He turned the small flask in his hand in examination. "A few weeks ago, I found that whisky's been an interesting deterrent. And stimulant too. A little and the Song goes away. If I overdo it, it comes back ten-fold louder. It's...a fine line I have to tread."

"If you don't mind me asking, what does it _sound_ like?"

He pursed his lips. It was something he took little joy in contemplating. Evangeline took note of the evident distaste and placated him hurriedly. "We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay. I suppose...I'd like you to know. For me, it's like a faint echo; on the edge of hearing. Beautiful. Haunting. But my logic's louder at the moment, and it tells me that the melody's ill - it tells me that it's _wrong_. For the moment, it's not a terribly difficult fight."

"I know that the taint's in your bloodstream and that some say there's dark magic behind it, but perhaps there's a more...scientific explanation behind what alleviates these symptoms and what makes them worse. Maybe, after all this is over, we could find someone who'd be willing to study it in greater detail. I'm willing to bet that some Orlesian scholars have already begun some research on the matter. I can have our ambassador look into it when I get back to Skyhold. She's got excellent connections."

Her worry was both touching and contradictory. He strove not to hope for more beyond what appeared to be friendly concern. "You can't save everyone, Evie," he cautioned with a smile.

"No," she admitted as she rose to her feet. She dusted her hands against her dark pants. Dry dirt and sand left pale tracings against the material. "But I can certainly try. Goodnight, Alec."

She walked away from him and back to her bedroll next to Adric's.

Stroud gazed at the diminishing embers for an hour before a fitful sleep stole over him.

* * *

><p>In the silvered amber of dawn, Hawke awakened after Stroud left their camp to begin his morning ablutions. She had been roused out of pure biological necessity. A wave of nausea convulsed through her stomach and throat and she swiftly kicked aside the bedroll. Almost leaping to her feet, she stumbled outside and then retched properly onto the grassy bluff where their hideout lay. The act itself was revolting and almost painful, but boy, did she feel better after.<p>

"Did you eat something bad?" asked Adric out of the corner of her eye.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and attempted to dilute the taste of bile with her own saliva. "Nothing you three didn't consume. I suppose I must have come down with something."

He handed her a wineskin of cool water. "Perhaps you need to see a Healer? You're welcome to come along with us back to Skyhold, you know."

"I can't." Hawke straightened up and issued an appreciative grin. She started to pin her lustrous hair back in place. "I'll meet you back at Adamant when the time comes, though. For now, I have to go back to Fenris. He'll be waiting for me."

"Who's Fenris?"

"A..._friend _of mine."

Adric nodded in gradual recognition.

"Speaking of which," muttered Hawke, eager to divert the topic of conversation away from herself, "What's up with our Warden and the Herald?"

Adric bristled at her keen attention to detail. Perhaps, given how perceptive she was, it'd be foolish to keep secrets hidden. "They used to be an item. A while ago. A very _long _time ago."

"Ah. I gathered as much. For months I've been telling him to get rid of that _ridiculous_ caterpillar under his nose and he completely ignores me. Then Her Nibs steps into view and within the span of a few hours, it's gone." She offered Adric a contrite smile. "She's lovely, actually – didn't mean to offend. A tad _unconventional_...but I'm starting to see how that can be a positive."

For the briefest of moments, Adric's mind wandered towards Dorian. During one of the short conversations he'd had with the mage at Skyhold, he'd playfully harassed the mage about his meticulous moustache and the amount of care he'd put into it. The innocent jest comprised of a one-liner and not much forethought lay behind it. Nevertheless, the mage became slightly more self-conscious, and Adric had caught him assessing the competency of his facial hair in the mirror on more than one occasion.

He found himself smiling at the summoned imagery and at the capricious nature of love when Stroud's figure came galloping up the hill. The man waved his hand about wildly and was soaked to the bone.

Within earshot, he panted slightly as he addressed Hawke first. "They didn't take the damn bait."

She clenched her jaw and looked at Adric gravely. She didn't need to say a word. While Stroud guarded the entrance, the pair quickly roused Evangeline and armed themselves. They rejoined Stroud outside the cavern.

"It's just the two of them, right?" questioned Adric.

"Right. But one capable Grey Warden is the equivalent of ten ordinary soldiers. And these two are seasoned." Stroud beckoned for them to move to slightly higher ground. The four of them snuck behind a dense thicket of conifers and birches. Stroud held his hand out to Hawke, and she placed a bronze spyglass in his open palm. He peered through it into the valley below.

"Any chance we can slip past them?" whispered Evangeline.

"_Fais chier_," muttered Stroud.

Evangeline knew enough of Stroud to recognize that when he slid into his native tongue, the future didn't look so chipper. "What is it?" she asked with dread.

He handed her the instrument. She pressed the eyepiece against her skin and adjusted it gingerly. A figure stepped into view, but it was not entirely human. At least, not anymore. Jagged red spikes protruded from staunch shoulders and torso. It slowly lumbered up the incline followed closely by two of its scarlet-garbed counterparts. She scanned the distance for the two Wardens and found the pair unsheathing their swords a few seconds later.

Evangeline almost flung the lengthened monocular onto the ground. "What the _hell_ are Wardens doing working with red Templars? Are they..._idiots?_"

Stroud looked surprised as well. "This is...new. I don't know what to make of it either."

Upon taking note of Evangeline's flaring nostrils, Adric placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. "We should try to slip away," he urged.

Hawke nodded. "There's a ravine behind us. And a lot of trees. We can lose them among the forest. It's likely that they don't realize we're still here otherwise they wouldn't expose themselves in daylight. Come on."

Hawke made as if to retreat but Evangeline rose, and rested a hand against the peeling curls of birch bark. Through the foliage and distance, their adversaries were swelling specks on the horizon. Anomalies against an otherwise placid and soothing landscape. She glanced at Stroud. "Are these the two that have been hunting you all this time?"

Stroud, like Alec, had identified this dark compunction well in advance. "We can lose them if we go now," he repeated.

"But then you won't be safe." she breathed. She turned to the Champion. "This isn't your fight. Nor yours for that matter," she nodded at Adric.

"Like hell it isn't." Adric gritted his teeth. As much as it pained him to admit it, dealing with the Wardens and their rambunctious pets _now_ rather than _never_ would yield a better payoff. It was risky, of course, but if the gamble worked, it would have bought Stroud some time to make a clean getaway. If they'd traced him this far despite the several precautions that he and Hawke had taken, they just might have followed him back to Skyhold.

The four of them wrapped their hands around the hilt of their swords.

"Geronimo." said Evangeline with a decidedly sour smile.

"_Maferath's balls_," muttered Stroud as he returned the gesture.

They charged down the hill.

* * *

><p>As Hawke and Stroud took on the Grey Wardens, Evangeline and Adric advanced against the three monstrosities that stood in their path.<p>

Evangeline allowed for a bubbling surge of rage to surface, and the bubbles soon gave way to a gushing stream. Conscious or unconscious to its source, she surrendered herself completely to it. The rage seemed a culmination of comprehensive and diverse origins. Raising her hilt high in the air, she brought it down with vengeance across what used to be a Templar's helm. As Adric tactfully both defended and attacked with sword and shield, she employed a blind fury to fuel her vigour in battle. She struck at it like a force of nature until it crumpled to an unmoving heap.

One sullied Templar down. Two to go.

She quickly took on the one that was closing in on Adric. The creature's blade tangled with her own, and she yanked it out from under it, throwing it off balance just as Cassandra had taught her. She lunged forward in swift riposte. But it was prepared for her onslaught and quickly turned an armored, crystalline shoulder towards her. Her sword clanged as if hitting stone; the blade had somehow managed to lodge itself between the protruding red shards. The Templar cut a deft swathe through the air, the tip of its weapon drawing a deep gash across her right cheek. Adrenaline had made her immune to the pain and she strove to steady her gait with her right leg. She kicked out with her left, hopeful that the beast would topple. It teetered momentarily, but quickly righted itself and then used her own initial strategy against her. Overcomed by the blow of its pommel, she almost keeled over and exposed herself to a killing strike, had it not been for Adric's intervention.

His own adversary defeated, he ran to her aid and stunned their foe with a blinding onslaught of both shield and sword. A few flurries and parries and the red Templar lay prostrate on the grassy knoll.

"You alright?" gasped Adric as he stretched out his hand towards her.

She brushed him aside as she groggily stumbled to her feet. She was annoyed. How on earth had he dispatched the pair so thoroughly when she'd struggled to do away with just the one? "_Fine_."

The two friends glanced in Stroud's and Hawke's direction. The Warden was wiping off the aftermath of his blade against a trousered leg. Hawke – who'd quite effectively disposed of her own opponent – pinned stray strands of auburn hair back into place.

Stroud stepped in Evangeline's direction with concern. "Do you need me to take care of that?"

"_What?_"

He motioned at her bloodied cheek.

Her wit failed her in striving to downplay the injury. Instead, she strolled up to the corpses that Stroud and Hawke had felled. She looked at the pair in ironic comicality. "The equivalent of ten men, eh?"

Stroud gave her a tentative grin. "Okay. Maybe we should have taken them on earlier."

Hawke, more serious, grimaced in recognition at the remains. "_Oh no_."

Adric trotted up to the fresh cadavers and scrutinized the pair. Their skin was dry, cracked and pale, almost paper-thin. Beneath its surface ran scarlet, unmistakable rivulets that traced veined paths. The telltale crystallization was absent, but it was quite evident what fate had befallen the two men.

"Evie?" asked Adric.

"Could red lyrium have been forced down their throats?" Evangeline shot Stroud a look.

"I...don't know. Not likely. Not for Wardens. But maybe they were desperate and were promised that the Song would lessen."

"Leave them here, then."

"They still deserve a burial," added Stroud. "They were Wardens once. They served a worthy order."

Evangeline chewed on her lower lip in order to subside her bitterness. "_Fine_. But I'm not helping you dig. They knew what they were doing when they took the first sip of that _rot_."

* * *

><p><strong>Four Days Later<strong>

**Skyhold**

The Commander glanced up at the overcast sky as he handed out copies of a new directive to his second-in-command, Rylen.

"It's going to bucket down in a minute," he mumbled.

A thunderous mix of greys, blacks, greens and yellows tumbled against each other in the heavens. Angry clouds rolled and tumbled against one another; their friction emitted a branching streak of blinding light. A peal of thunder rolled down onto the pair and it was only Rylen who flinched.

"I want them to be well aware of the danger if they choose to go against him!" cried Cullen, as the wind picked up speed and threatened to carry his voice away with it. "In fact – if they can altogether avoid Samson, that would be best!"

Rylen nodded.

"Any senior officer who neglects to issue these warnings is subject to immediate dismissal. If a soldier under their command dies because of it, they're to be held accountable. _Is that clear?_"

Rylen concurred with a downward shake of his head.

"Alright," said Cullen, satisfied. "On with your duties."

The pair parted in opposite directions. A continual gust whipped about him, and Cullen began to race in the direction of his quarters when he saw the drawbridge lower with a distinguishable groan. Could they be back so soon, he wondered?

Curiousity seized him and he tentatively wandered towards the opening.

Before long, small pools of rain began to waterlog the rich, brown soil – turning it to a thick shade of black. Parents dragged their charges along the soggy grass, as several children attempted to impetuously splash into the rapidly-forming puddles. Numerous Inquisition workers fortunate to possess everyday items such as newspapers or burlap sacks sheltered their heads as they rushed about for cover. The remainder simply tumbled behind searching for reprieve. Three horses galloped through the aperture of Skyhold's durable gates. Several soldiers surrounded the new arrivals and quickly offered to take the reins. Its riders ducked and cowered against the weather as numerous pellets of water descended around them.

Cullen ran forward expectantly.

Adric swiftly dismounted. He gave the Commander a nod of recognition and then raced towards the tavern – which provided the closest, most comforting and warm of shelters. Another unrecognizable, dark-headed individual followed suit and Cullen paid him little mind. The Commander stood stock still, shielding his vision against the sheets of rain with his hand. He remained standing amidst the downpour until the third and final rider descended her mount.

She almost stumbled towards him.

It was all he could do to prevent himself from reaching out and caressing her cheek. The linear wound curved its way from cheekbone almost to her ear. It was angry and red. Beneath lowered brows, she kept him at a safe distance as if she'd expected him to betray their true feelings for one another first. As soon as she'd ascertained that he was willing to maintain his composure, she stepped forward and grasped his hand. She leaned in close – he could see the droplets of water trickle steadily down her face – and spoke into his ear.

"Your office? Five minutes? Before Leliana convenes a debriefing."

He nodded his assent.

* * *

><p>As soon as he'd latched the door shut behind him, she crossed the room and flung her arms around his neck.<p>

He was slightly taken aback by the embrace. For the longest while, he'd believed that it was _he_ who'd needed _her_ more and not the other way around. Her form tremoured against his briefly. He held her tight and pressed his lips against her ear.

Evangeline pulled away and attempted to regain her composure.

"Is...everything alright?" Cullen asked.

The textured flagstones seemed to captivate her attention more than his words. "It's okay. Sometimes...it's just..."

"It's just..._what?_" he pressed.

She faked a smile. "It's _fine_. How did everything go here in the meantime? Adric and I took care of Crestwood's problems. Wait'll you hear what their mayor did."

"_Evie_."

"During the Blight, he gave the order to flood Old Crestwood himself. All those people he'd killed? Some of them had the Blight. Their family and friends didn't want to leave them behind. So he panicked and decided to do away with them – those who were _and_ weren't tainted. When we closed the Rift and went back to Crestwood, he left a note explaining his actions. But he'd already fled. The _coward_." She was talking faster now. Her words rolled past her lips; a mile a minute.

"_Evangeline_."

"I've half a mind to bring this to Josephine's attention. Surely there are traces of his whereabouts. On the other hand, I feel a little guilty. A decision of that magnitude – its consequences will haunt him to his deathbed – whether justice finds him or not."

"_Andraste's blessed crown, Evie – slow down, for pity's sake!_"

She stood rooted in place, breathing hard.

"Have you been taking your _go juice?_"

"My _wha_ – _oh_. Yes. Cassandra has Adan brew it for me weekly."

She ran a hand against his cheek. "You look pale. How're the symptoms?"

_Worse when you're not around_. "Getting better now."

"It might be harder for you than it was for us. You were with the Templars for much longer. If there's anything that I can – "

He cut her off abruptly. "You can be honest with me. What's got you so shaken?"

"I...missed you," she said finally. And broke eye contact. "There was a moment when I...I wondered if I'd ever see you again. It's silly isn't it. We've faced death before. But somehow, now..."

Cullen grasped her hand and pulled her towards him. "What happened?" he breathed.

"It's okay. Everything worked out for the best. Adric was there for me."

"What _really_ happened?"

"A red Templar. Well, three of them. I took care of the one. The second did...this," she gestured loosely at her wounded face. "Sloppy technique. On my part, that is."

And in that instant, unware of his own actions, he began to examine her person. He quickly removed his gloves, flung them onto his desk and turned her arm around gently. Satisfied that it was free of any injury, he scrutinized the other. He traced his fingers against the curves of her neck, but found nothing save for the grit and grime she'd acquired during their trek.

"Oh, don't make a fuss," she said as she rolled her eyes. But she didn't pull away.

He looked at her sternly. "Would you not do the same?"

"Of course I would. But that's..._different_." Evangeline's tone quickly softened. "My pride's just a smidge wounded – is all."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean by _sloppy technique_? You've faced red Templars before, haven't you? What has Cassandra been teaching you?"

"It's not her fault!" protested Evangeline. "I was...angry. I might have let my feelings get ahead of me." _Good gracious_. The last time she'd been this forthcoming and honest was about a week ago, when he'd confronted her about her feelings after the tragedy at Haven. The gaps in between these bouts of candor had consistently been narrowing. She was well aware that she had him to thank for wrecking such barriers...but despite the vulnerability that the transition elicited, it also came across as warm and reassuring. Like a fuzzy, protective blanket.

"Why were you angry?" he asked.

"My..._our_ friends. Corypheus wants to cut down _everything_. And," Evangeline pursed her lips and strove to focus on Cullen's muddied leather boots, "if I can't protect my friends, then I can't protect everyone out there. So what good am I really?"

The Commander – an arm tucked underneath her own – stood speechless for several moments. There were no words of strength, wisdom nor comfort that crept to mind. But her feelings mirrored those he'd felt so long ago. He quickly pulled her nearer and in an instant, she buried her face in his shoulder. He wasn't certain if she was crying; she remained motionless and silent.

He kissed her hair. "Josephine wishes to have a small...gathering."

Still nothing.

He went on. "To celebrate your...promotion to Inquisitor. She promises it will be a small one and limited to certain parties within Skyhold. She's recently hired two competent chefs from Orlais. Don't ask me how. There'll be those spicy potato wedges you like so much."

"_Mmph_."

"There'll be pastries."

That got her attention. With slightly red-rimmed eyes, she peered up at him. "What kind?" she asked in a small voice.

He couldn't help but smile. "There will be raspberry martyrs for dessert."

"Was that your idea?"

"Mm. Tell you what. If you survive the night, you can have my share."

Evangeline pressed her lips against the base of his neck and chuckled.

* * *

><p>"You can go in if you want to," said the woman who escorted him. She'd hovered around the ambassador several minutes before. Perhaps she was her assistant.<p>

"Is the Herald inside?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not yet. But I'm sure she'll be in soon."

"I'll just wait out here then."

The woman walked in the opposite direction, her long silk and chiffon skirt rustling against its own folds as she did so.

The rain outside splattered against the stained-glass window in the hallway. He watched in silence as the expeditious drops rolled down against the soft indents, racing against one another. The water took on the hues of the tinted surface – amber turned to emerald, and emerald into a deep blue. A pile of rubble lay behind him, and loose window slats sat at awkward angles before him. As a door opened at the far end of the passage, a small but chilly draft snaked its way through. The climate here was cold. Much colder than that of Crestwood even with overcast skies and the rift under the lake. It would take a little getting used to. But perhaps with her here, he'd quickly acclimatize. He turned his head to the sounds of echoing footsteps.

Evangeline walked alongside her taller companion. It wasn't Adric. She seemed to be chuckling at something he'd said.

As she stepped towards Stroud she cleared her throat and hurriedly mumbled her way through hasty introductions. "Uh...Alec – perhaps you don't remember Cullen Ruther –"

"I remember." He quickly broke out into a smile. "It was a long time ago, but I remember." He thrust a hand out which Cullen shook firmly. "So how'd she rope you into this one?"

"I...uh, didn't get roped. If anything, I...we roped _her_ in."

"Cullen commands the Inquisition's army." said Evangeline quickly.

"Oh."

"He's one of my advisors."

Stroud looked back and forth from the pair before his gaze settled on Cullen. "I hope you'll forgive my impertinence, but _you_ left the Templars?"

"I did. We didn't share the same views." He placed a hand on Evangeline's back and gestured before them. "We really should get in there. The others are waiting."

Stroud's eyes turned a shade towards somber as he followed quietly behind the pair.

* * *

><p>Evangeline's advisors took in Stroud's retelling of events with rapt attention. Even the ever-curious Josephine failed to interrupt the Warden with intelligent queries. She merely took to nail biting, and had placed her quill, tablet and brass pot of ink aside. Cassandra glanced down when Stroud informed them of the deceit the Venatori agent, Eramond, had stooped to in order to ensnare the Wardens as allies and eventual sacrifices. When he and Evangeline described the red taint within the two Wardens they'd encountered in Crestwood, she held her head in her hands. Leliana slung back her hood as her usual inscrutable physiognomy gave way to one of sorrow. Cullen's face paled at the end of this reiteration and involuntarily moved his chair an inch closer to Evangeline's.<p>

The gesture did not go amiss, but Stroud chose instead to focus on the Seeker, who began to speak.

"I believe I speak for all of us when I give you my thanks for bringing this information to our attention. You didn't have to risk your life to come here in person, yet you chose to do so."

"You can...uh, thank your Herald for the latter." Stroud scratched his face with his index finger. "I wouldn't be here if not for her." He looked at her directly in the eye as he spoke, and did not lift his gaze even as Leliana interrupted.

"Tristan Cousland and Alistair – they're alright? They're safe? Or are they taking part in this ritual?"

Evangeline quickly severed eye contact with Stroud. "They're not involved. They're looking for another way to end the Calling instead. Together."

Leliana leaned back in her chair – relieved. "I can send Harding and a contingent of scouts to the Western Approach. Perhaps get a better feel for the situation before we send our forces in."

"I disagree," said Cullen. "Your scouts won't be safe out there without some of my men. Especially with Venatori about."

"The Western Approach is a desolate place. If you send in troops, it's going to raise a lot of red flags." Evangeline chimed in. "Send in a few scouts. A small number at a time. Pretend it's a...research expedition or something. From Orlais. Give them some proper documents saying they're from the university and they're there to unearth some artifacts. No one's going to bother with a bunch of stuffy scholars. Of course, don't have them _walk _up to Adamant Fortress. Have them loiter several miles from its outskirts."

The corners of Leliana's mouth tugged up into a mild grin. _The girl was learning_.

"_Fine_. And after your scouts have assessed the situation, I suppose we can decide where to go from there. But I will _not_ be held accountable if you lose men to this endeavor. In the meantime, what do we do about the...red Wardens?" asked Cullen.

"We don't know much about them yet to know what kind of move to make," said Cassandra. "Once we broach Adamant, perhaps we can gather for information."

"This red lyrium smuggling operation – we've got to narrow down its source." suggested the Commander. "The sooner the better. Before everyone turns into a walking red..._something_."

"I'll put a few feelers out," replied Leliana. She cast a concerned glance at Evangeline. "No doubt you must be tired. And perhaps you would like to have some of your injuries attended to?"

"We still have much to discuss," said Cassandra. "There's the matter of the missing Seekers – "

"And the small dinner to celebrate your promotion," chirped Josephine. "We've got to think about your speech, what you'll wear, you certainly can't go around sporting that tattered getup any longer. When you were the _Herald_ and we were in _Haven_ it was a different matter but now..."

Cassandra scowled and waved a dismissive hand in the air. "_Stuff_ your trifling affairs. We have to also get ourselves invited to the Wintersend Ball. I agree that we have to cripple Corypheus from every angle, but saving the Empress must be our first priority and we – "

Evangeline let out a soft yet quite audible whimper.

"_My friends_," began Leliana, "this has been a long night for us all. And all this information is a little _beyond_ overwhelming. Josephine will set to work on who to contact to procure us an invitation to Halamshiral. Cassandra, you'll give me a thorough report on the missing Seekers. I will brief Scout Harding on the Adamant situation. But we'll get to work on this tomorrow and can discuss our progress then, after we've all...at least, attempted, to have a good rest."

"And what'll _I_ do?" asked Cullen with scowl.

Her gaze flicked to Evangeline and then back at the Commander. She gave him a gentle, yet quite insightful smile.

The small entourage filed quietly out of the room.

* * *

><p>As the Inquisition plus Grey Warden left the chilly passage, Evangeline turned left and made as if to enter her quarters. Stroud, a troubled look on his face, stepped after her and brushed his hand against her shoulder to get her attention.<p>

Skyhold's large hall was devoid of the flurry that the day had brought, and save for a deep conversation that Cullen was having with Cassandra at one end, it was quite empty.

"You got a minute?" he asked tentatively.

She exhaled. "Not really. How about tomorrow?"

"It really can't wait."

She stared at him in silence for several moments. This stage, this situation – it was wholly reminiscent of a prelude to...a battle of wits and words. The trivial insistence began innocently enough, but she was too familiar with old aspects of his character to fail to recognize this precursor to an argument. The thought sapped what little energy she thought she had left.

He went on. "I need to know something."

"Okay."

"Was Cullen at the Circle Tower at the same time you were?"

Her stomach sank and she braced for impact. "Yes. But if you remember, I didn't go there alone. Adric was with me."

He shook his head rapidly, as if the detail was irrelevant. "Yeah, but you two were there together. _At the same time._"

Evangeline gave him the darkest frown she could manage. "Why is this important now?" She wanted to tell him, she wanted to shout it out. _I'm with the sodding Commander now, and we're really quite happy so bugger off_. But she received a small degree of satisfaction from withholding the intricacies of her life from him. Plus, it wasn't a secret the entirety of Skyhold needed to know. Night or day, these walls had ears.

Stroud issued a disbelieving scoff. "It makes all the difference in the world. So is that why you left the Templars? Is that why he left? Did the pair of you leave together?"

Her hand unwittingly coiled into an angry fist at her side. "No."

"No – _what?_"

"No, I didn't leave because of him. I _told_ you why I left. Cullen left the Order much later."

"Okay...so what's going on then?"

Her fist relaxed as confusion set in. She threw her hands up in bewildered despair. "What's going on where? In the garden? In Bull's pants? _What the devil are you badgering me for?_" She wondered if she was even making sense anymore. All she was aware of was a taut weight on her shoulders, the steady throbbing of aching muscles and a knot that tightened with every second at the base of her neck.

Stroud took in a deep breath at an attempt to steady his pulse. "Look, I don't like the way we left things. In Redcliffe. It was sudden...too sudden. And I never got to say goodbye properly and – "

" – it's fine." She shrugged her shoulders – quite nonplussed by his admission. "No big deal. Can I please go to sleep now?"

"Evie girl, come on. I want to make things right between us."

"_They're fine!_ They're...right. Look, we'll always be friends, Alec. But if you demand pomp and ceremony..." Evangeline gestured wildly with her hands in poor imitation of a priest within a Chantry confessional. "_I absolve you of your sins. No longer does your...troubled soul lie in...in limbo. May your future be a long and blessed one – so sayeth the Maker...now go-eth...on thine merry way. The end. Finis_." She gave him a watery smile.

"I'm trying to be serious here."

"_What do you want from me?_" she almost shrieked.

"You honestly don't know?"

A lengthy shadow stepped into view. "I...uh…is everything alright?"

Evangeline almost leapt into Cullen's arms. _I just want to go to sleep. But this bloody bastard here won't let me_. "Everything's peachy keen," she said, narrowing her eyes at Stroud. "Isn't it, Alec? In fact, Alec was just bidding me goodnight. Because that's what people do at this hour. _They sleep_."

"We just have a few things to talk about," explained Stroud as he massaged his brow. It was his turn to be weary.

Cullen inched towards Evangeline. "Can it wait until tomorrow morning? I need to uh...debrief the Herald on a smaller matter."

_Bless you, Commander. Bless you and your beautiful feathered pauldrons too_. "Yes!" nodded Evangeline happily. "Crestwood's mayor! We haven't discussed his disappearance. We need to debrief his disappearance."

"I suppose it can." Stroud appeared skeptical. Yet he nodded at them both. "Goodnight then – to the pair of you."

Cullen quickly led Evangeline by the arm while eyeing Stroud warily out of the corner of his eye.

"Was I mean?" she asked – her voice hoarse with exhaustion, turning her face up to Cullen.

"It's been a long day for everyone. Alec included. Can't blame the man for...whatever he said – he's probably on edge too."

"Maybe." She pawed at her itchy nose. "I came up with a nice pet moniker for you."

"Do tell," he deadpanned.

"_Teddy_. You know - after all those plush and cuddly jests Adric threw at you. It's got to be several degrees better than _Cully Wully_, don't you think?"

Truth be told, he rather_ liked_ it. But Maker forbid that he'd let her know. "I suppose so."

Her mouth widened into a cheeky smile. She nudged him playfully with her elbow. "So. Are you _really_ going to _debrief_ me, Commander?"

He let out a sudden loud laugh. "The minute your pretty head touches the pillow, losing your ah...knickers will be the farthest thought on your mind."

She snickered. "You said _knickers_."

He smiled to himself in the gloom as he guided her down a darkened path, up the steps and into his own quarters.


End file.
